


Knish from a Rose (Lasagne Come Out Tomato)

by itswhatever



Category: Saving Hope
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 06:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12929172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itswhatever/pseuds/itswhatever
Summary: Maggie and Sydney are chefs at a restaurant.  Probably don't read this while you're hungry.My recipes for mentioned dishes will be posted at the end of their respective chapters (though I may eventually move them to their own chapter at the end).





	1. Just Gouda-nough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Maggie gets a job. Well, okay, she already had a job. So, a better job. Maggie gets a better job. You go, Maggie._  
>   
>  alternate title: cooking up some fresh employment  
> I hope you all like food puns cuz I got em.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you come across a word and you're like "what the fuck is that," I'm gonna throw a cute lil glossary in the end notes whenever might be necessary (idk who knows what ok and making you google shit doesn't sound fun). So yeah. If you find yourself confused, check the bottom of the chappy chap. 10/10 would recommend

“ _ Oh my god, it’s just an interview, _ ” Maggie whispered to herself as she huffed up the subway steps.  Maggie prided herself in being a calm person, generally speaking.  Now though, despite her fruitless attempts to ease her rising nervousness, she was anything but.

Maggie followed the surrounding crowd out to a sharp Toronto chill. She picked up her pace as she popped the collar of her coat, wrapping the material more tightly around her.  She wanted this job.  She  _ needed  _ this job.  Her final years of school had left her with a pile of student loans and a steadily shrinking bank account.  She had less than a month to find a better paying position, at least if she wanted to keep feeding herself.  Her mind reeled on this as she walked the next several blocks to her destination. 

As she rounded the corner, Maggie saw it.  A modern wooden signboard hung between the entrance and front windows, engraved with the restaurant’s name.  Maggie stopped in front of the door and took in a short, steadying breath.  She ignored the “Closed” sign and pushed the door open, mildly cheered by the wave of warmth that hit her.  The restaurant was dimly lit, the light mostly supplied by hanging bar lamps and a few partially curtained windows.  More lights were on near the back, illuminating a large table, where it appeared some of the staff had recently eaten.  The familiar sounds of food prep leaked from the open double doors of the kitchen.

A woman looked up from where she was pouring over some papers at the bar.

“Hello,” she almost smiled. “Can I help you?”  She was wearing a chef’s coat, but was clearly too young to be anything more than a line cook.

“Yes, I’m looking for the chef? I’m here for an interview.” 

The woman turned her body slowly, fixing her eyes on Maggie.  Was she angry?  Maggie couldn’t tell.  The woman adjusted her glasses and tucked an errant strand of ginger hair behind her ear with a light sigh.  “I am the chef.”

“The head chef?” Maggie asked, thrown off guard.

“The head chef.”

_ Shit _ . Maggie froze. “I’m sorry, you just seem a little--”

“Young? To be an executive chef?”  The small chef pursed her lips.  “Well, I’m not.  And you must be--” she referenced one of the papers on the bar, “Maggie Lin.”

“That’s me,” Maggie said with a forced smile, anything to lighten up her mistake.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?”  Maggie flinched inwardly and immediately consulted her watch. Sure enough.  _ Damnit. _  “Sorry.”

Her short apology seemed to placate the chef somewhat.  “Great, well, I’m Sydney Katz,” she stepped closer to Maggie, offering her hand, which Maggie took.  “If you’ll just have a seat, I’ll be right with you,”  she said, motioning vaguely to the array of nearby tables.

Maggie nodded an “Okay,” and did as told, stripping her coat to hang on the back of the chair.  She brushed her bangs out of her eyes, willing her nerves to subside.  It didn’t work.  

Sydney disappeared behind the kitchen doors as Maggie pulled a copy of her resume from her bag.  A few moments later, Sydney returned, trailing behind a tall woman with blonde hair who, wearing a sleek black blazer and elegant necklace, was clearly not a chef.

“Maggie,” the blonde woman said, smiling faintly as she approached Maggie, who had stood up again. “We spoke on the phone yesterday. I’m Dawn Bell, the one of the co-owners of Zed. Let’s get started, shall we?”  She motioned to the table where Maggie had previously been sitting and Maggie sat back down, Dawn and Sydney taking seats opposite her.  Sydney pulled Maggie’s resume across the table. 

“We’ve been impressed with your resume,” Dawn said, “particularly your references.  They all spoke very highly of you when we called.  You’ve done well for a chef so recently out of school.”

“Thank you,” Maggie replied with a grin.  Maybe she hadn’t messed things up  _ too _ bad.

“The head chef at the restaurant you work at now,” Sydney cut in, “is Jason Kalfas, right?”

Maggie found herself once again caught off-guard by this unfamiliar, fiery chef.  She hesitated a few milliseconds before affirming.  Jason could be a little...unprofessional.  Not that he needed to be particularly polished, but his constant flirting with waitresses, other chefs, customers--anyone female, really--combined with a casual drug habit, had earned him a reputation around the restaurant.  More than just the one restaurant, Maggie noted, if the height of Sydney’s eyebrows were any indication.

“Have you slept with him?” Sydney asked bluntly.

Maggie was taken aback.  “No!”

“Shoot drugs with him?”

_ Has this woman never heard of boundaries?   _ “Of course not! God, no.”  Maggie couldn’t believe she was being asked such questions during what she thought would be a very simple interview.  

At this reaction, Sydney lightened slightly for the first time since Maggie had walked in the door.  “Hey,” she chuckled, shaking her head, “don’t be defensive, this is just us getting to know each other.”

Dawn cleared her throat, saving Maggie a response.  Dawn raised her eyebrows.  Though clearly unsurprised by Sydney’s harsh mannerisms, she seemed a little annoyed.  Dawn continued on.  “Regarding the position you applied for--”

“We’re not really looking for a sous chef right now,” Sydney cut in, again.  “And in any case, we’d like you to have a little more experience before giving you that sort of responsibility.”

Dawn nodded and Maggie swallowed.  She focused her eyes on a particularly dark swirl in the table wood.   _ So much for being impressed with my resume, _ she thought. They were going to turn her away.

Sydney continued, “Instead, we’d like to hire you as an apprentice sous chef.”

Maggie lifted her head.  “What?”

Dawn took over, “It’s not a very common position in most restaurants, but we’ve got a big kitchen.  There will be a trial period, of course, for about two weeks.  Assuming you perform well, we’d like to have you on our team.”

A bit breathless, Maggie stuttered clumsily through her acceptance, and Dawn and Sydney smiled.  

“Are you able to start tomorrow?” Dawn asked.

“Yes, absolutely.”  Maggie was sure she must look dumb with the grin on her face, but it didn’t matter.

“Wonderful! Be here at three.”

A few handshakes and  _ thank you _ ’s later, Maggie was stepping back in the cold air, thoroughly satisfied with herself.  She had worked hard for this.  It had only been three years since she graduated from cooking school, but she had spent those years doing absolutely everything she could to better herself in every area of her profession.

She was so tickled, she completely missed the figure in front of her until she’d run it right over.  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry--” Maggie began, turning to help the poor person back up.

“Maggie?” Maggie’s best friend, Alex, lay on the ground at her feet.

“Alex?” Maggie squeaked. “Oh my god!”

“Yeah whatever, just help me get up.”  Maggie reached out both hands and pulled her friend to her feet.  “Thanks,” Alex breathed, brushing ice and dirt from her knees.  “That was rude, by the way.  You should watch where you’re going, I could have torn my slacks!”

Maggie was about to apologize again, but Alex waved her off. 

“So,” Alex clutched Maggie’s arm with excitement. “How’d it go?”

“Amazing,” Maggie replied. “They’re hiring me as an apprentice sous chef!”

Alex looked both thrilled and puzzled.  “That exists?”

“Sometimes,” Maggie nodded, smiling. “It’s not much more than being a line cook, but it’s a raise, at least.”

“Well, that’s great! When do you start?”

“Tomorrow,”  Maggie replied.  Jason would be upset with her, but she could deal with that.  “By the way, aren’t you late?” she asked Alex, checking her watch.

“I’m just a server, they’ll be fine,” Alex said with a wave of her hand.

“ _ Head _ server.”

Alex rolled her eyes at Maggie.  “Doesn’t mean anything with that vulture around.  And don’t mother me.”  The ‘vulture’ Alex was referring to was Dawn.  Dawn had been amicable with Maggie, but Maggie had been friends with Alex forever. She'd heard story after story of Dawn’s egotistical way of managing Zed.  Maggie had to admit, if the things Alex said about her were true, she wasn’t overly thrilled at the prospect of working with her new boss.  At least she was working in the kitchen, not the dining room.

Maggie smiled at Alex’s joke but pushed her friend’s shoulder lightly, turning her down the street in the direction of the restaurant.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They waved their goodbyes and Maggie resumed her walk to the underground.  She would have to go straight to the cafe where she would deal with a probably high, probably whiny Jason.  But not for long.  

_ My last day as a line cook _ , Maggie thought.  She smiled quietly to herself all the way there, a smile that was wiped from her face the second she walked in the door.

“You look nice.”  It was Gavin, her ex-boyfriend of two months, and her alternative motivation for finding a new job as quickly as possible.  “And you’re late.”

Maggie rolled her eyes internally at him.  “I don’t really care.”  She didn’t hold any ill will towards Gavin, not really.  But he was just a regular server, and not in any position to be lecturing her.  She pushed past him where he was standing in front of the host’s counter and made her way behind it, clocking in.

Gavin shrugged.  “It’s just that you’re not usually late.  I was a little worried.”

_ Oh, Gav. _  Always looking to get her to talk about things she’d rather not get into with him.  “I had a job interview.”  She turned her back to him and headed for the bathroom.

“Well,” he wasn’t going to let her get away with such a short conversation, “did you get it?”

Maggie turned again, now walking backwards.  She shot him a smug grin.  “I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter 1 glossary of (usually) cooking terms:**
> 
> _Executive/head chef_ |  Also referred to as just “the chef,” as the name suggests, this is the chef that is head of command and manages the kitchen. Despite usually having the most training, the executive chef does the least amount of cooking, but has by far the most creative reign. They also clean the bathrooms (fun).  
> ---|---  
> |   
> _Sous chef_ |  The second in command. Assist’s the head chef in their duties and manages the kitchen in the head chef’s absence (which can be quite often). Generally does quite a bit more cooking than the exec chef. Almost always works the most hours.  
> |   
> _Line cook_ |  The busy bees of the kitchen. These guys do most of the cooking and aren’t actually considered chefs as they have essentially zero control over what they cook. Their job is sometimes referred to as “working in the trenches.” Most chefs generally start here after cooking school, but not always. Graduating from a highly-accredited school can sometimes allow chefs to skip the whole line cook thing.


	2. Seven Days Without Pizza Makes One Weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Maggie has her first week and whatnot u know all that good job shit_

The next day, Maggie joined Alex as she went to work.  

“Are you excited?” Alex asked a few blocks from the restaurant, her arm hooked through Maggie’s.

“Yeah...I don’t know if ‘excited’ is the word,” Maggie responded slowly, scrunching up her face. “It’s more like…terrified? Maybe?”

Alex rolled her eyes.  “You’ll be fine,” she said.  “You make the best damn souffle I’ve ever had in my life.”

Maggie smiled.  She _did_ make a mean souffle.  Not that that meant anything.  “I just keep imagining myself doing something stupid,” said Maggie, “like spilling soup all over myself or slipping on dishwater and falling on my face, then having everyone laugh at me.”

“Not _everyone_ would laugh,” Alex said, chuckling.  “I mean, _I_ would, Charlie would, but everyone else is fair game.”  Alex intentionally bumped into Maggie just a little too hard as they walked, causing Maggie to stumble.  “I bet Shahir would even worry about you, try to assess you for brain damage or something.”

This was not comforting to Maggie.  “Yeah, okay, thanks for easing all my irrational fears,” she said sarcastically.

“Hey, they’re not _that_ irrational.”

Maggie shot Alex a look. “Thanks for your support.”

“Anytime.”

“Who’s Shahir, by the way?” asked Maggie as they made their final turn onto the correct street.

“Oh, he’s the pastry chef,” Alex replied.  “You’ll probably meet him today.  He’s nice, you’ll like him.”

Maggie hesitated.  “You mean, like--”

“No, not like that,” Alex laughed.  “Shahir’s gay.  He’s also kinda awkward. Like you! You’ll get along great.”

“Oh my god, I am _not_ awkward!” Maggie nearly yelled and Alex laughed hard.  “I’m not!”

Alex caught her breath and let her laughter die off.  “No, you’re not,” she leveled. She stopped the both of them before heading into the restaurant, her hand on the door. “You ready?” she asked.

Maggie squared her shoulders and nodded. “Ready.”

With that, Alex smiled, pushed the door open, and pulled Maggie through.

The restaurant was already bustling with preparations for the evening.  Table cloths were being thrown across wooden surfaces and centerpieces carefully placed on top of them. The kitchen door repeatedly swung open and closed as servers emerged with carts of plates, silverware and wine glasses.  Maggie could hear Dawn was barking out orders from some unseen area, causing anyone nearby to scurry off.  No sooner had Maggie shed her coat than Sydney came bursting out of the kitchen, clipboard in hand.

“Oh, Maggie, you’re here,” Sydney called across the length of the dining room, “that’s great. Ah, Alex, as soon as you clock in, will you go check the trashes in the back? I think they got missed last nigh—Ow! Oi, watch it!”

A tall, gangly young man in a chef’s coat far too big for him slammed into Sydney as he exited the kitchen.

“Oh, sorry chef,” he mumbled as he stumbled past.

Sydney sighed and rubbed her forehead. “What was I saying?”

“I’m supposed to check the trashes,” Alex offered, brushing past Maggie and heading towards the kitchen.

“Right.” She turned her attention back to Maggie. “I’ve got too much to do today, so you’re going to work with Charlie for awhile. He’s our sous chef.”

“I know Charlie,” Maggie said with a smile.

“Of course,” Sydney said, shaking her head and waving her hand. “You’re Alex’s friend. Right.” She motioned Maggie to follow her as she turned around and entered the kitchen.

Maggie walked through the double doors after Sydney and was immediately in awe.  Dawn was right, this kitchen was _huge._  Maggie hadn’t seen this many stations in a kitchen since cooking school.  The place was loud with the clinkings and clankings of prep work--a giant machine of cooks cleaning, chopping, and sizzling all the food they would go through in one night.  It was perfect.

“Let’s get you your uniform first,” Sydney said, interrupting Maggie’s dreamy kitchen trance. She led Maggie past the tables and stoves to a supply closet at the back of the restaurant.  “We got these coats from a different company than normal, so the sizing is a bit off…” Sydney said, burying herself behind a small tower of boxes.  She emerged a moment later, carrying three different white coats.  She considered Maggie briefly, looking her up and down before selecting one of the tunics and holding it up to Maggie’s shoulders.  “Try this one,” she instructed.

Maggie pulled off her sweater, revealing a simple white t-shirt and causing Sydney to look away, embarrassed.  Maggie pretended not to notice the odd behavior.  It’s not like she was indecent. She took the coat from Sydney’s hands and slipped it on.

“Looks like it fits,” Maggie said and Sydney stopped her fake examination of the supply closet stock to see for herself.

Sydney nodded in appreciation of her handiwork, a sideways smile on her face.  “That it does,” she said before ducking behind the boxes again and pulling out an extra tunic an a small black cap.  She handed these to Maggie.  “There are lockers in the office, let’s get you one assigned.”  She led the way back out of the closet and down the short hall into the open kitchen area.  The office was located adjacent, a grid of lockers lining the far wall as promised.

“I think most of the top ones are taken,” Sydney said, beginning along the middle row and opening every door without a lock until she found an empty one.  “Ah, here you go.”

Maggie quickly stashed her belongings and extra coat inside the locker.  The toque she pulled over her head.

Next, Sydney took Maggie on a short tour of the kitchen, pausing to introduce her to the rest of the staff.  The first was the scruffy teenage boy she had seen earlier.  

“Billy!” Sydney yelled as he came flying through the kitchen doors with vigor, an action that seemed to be a usual for him.  The tall boy stopped and shot a cheesy grin at Sydney. “Maggie, this is Billy, one our dishwashers,” she began.

“I’m your only dishwasher, chef,”  Billy responded.  “Alice quit last week.”

The chef blinked and pursed her lips with a quiet “Great,” before shepherding Maggie on.  She met the five line cooks--Jimmy, Dana, Cassie, Tom, and Dev--and two prep cooks--Jackson and Victor.  Just as Maggie became sure she would absolutely never remember everyone’s name, they ended their journey at the head chefs’ station.

“And you know Charlie,” Sydney said, gesturing.

Charlie was working furiously with a mandoline, buried in bowls of onions, potatoes, and carrots.  “Maggie!” Charlie looked genuinely happy to see her, though Maggie wasn’t sure how much of that was actually her presence, or if he was just excited to have some help.  “I hear you’re working with me today.  How are your knife skills?” he asked.

Maggie made a smug face at him.  “I’m a pro.”  This gained a small smile and a pat on the shoulder from Sydney as she left to resume whatever she had been doing with her clipboard.

“Perfect!”  Charlie picked up a giant bowl of whole, peeled carrots from among his orderly mess and moved it to an adjacent counter with a thud.  “I need you to julienne these,” he said.

Maggie cocked her head.  “ _All_ of them?”

Charlie repeated her previous smug face back at her and nodded.  “All of them.”  For emphasis, he fetched a knife and another, almost as large bowl from under his counter.  “Have fun.”

Maggie rolled her eyes as soon as Charlie had stepped away.  She thought she had graduated from her old work duties with this new job, but apparently not much would change.    

An hour and a half later,  Maggie had julienned every carrot in sight, as well as nearly an entire bowl of potatoes.  She was just about to start pre-portioning chicken stock when--

“Okay, I need Maggie, Jimmy, and Dev on line.  The rest of you finish prep.  Charlie, will you double check these numbers?”

The entire kitchen shifted according to Sydney’s orders.  Maggie made her way out of the head station and was rounding the corner to join the line cooks when the chef grabbed her arm.

“Not so fast, chef,” Sydney said.  She held out a bright blue binder.  “Our recipe book.  Follow it like your life depends on it.”  Maggie took the binder.  “Jimmy will help you--Jimmy!”

Jimmy’s head spun round, causing some of his long blonde hair to fall out of the scraggly bun at the base of his neck.  He smiled at Maggie and waved.

“Jimmy, show Maggie the ropes.  And I need something covering that hair of yours.”

“You got it, chef.”

As she went to join Jimmy, Maggie reminded herself that it was her first day and working line was to be expected.  At least Jimmy was attractive.

Not long later, the first several orders of the night came flooding in.  Maggie took her first ticket; veal and black truffle ragout, a medium-rare ribeye steak.  She set to work immediately on the ragout, which would take the most amount of time.  She flipped through the recipe binder, locating the dish and glancing over the list of ingredients.  A smattering of her julienned carrots hit her skillet along with leeks, mushrooms, parsnips, garlic, sage, a bay leaf, a few sprigs of thyme.  The veal followed quickly after.

 _Okay, steak,_ Maggie thought to herself, fetching a cut from the cooler and salt and peppering both sides.  She tossed a second saute pan on the stove.  She needed butter, which should be...not there.  Maggie sifted through the ingredients in the standing fridge next to her station.  No butter.  She moved on, searching above and below the nearby counters with no luck.  She couldn’t believe it.

What kind of restaurant kitchen doesn’t stock butter?  

Maggie finally found it, stashed in a red bin at the back of the walk-in fridge.  She brought the butter back to her station and began firing her steak, pleased with herself.  As the steak began to reach a beautiful golden brown, she tossed an extra pad of butter on top.

“What did you just do?!”

Maggie jumped and looked up, shocked, as Sydney descended on her like a hawk.  “Uhh...I’m cooking this steak?”

Sydney grabbed the sauté Maggie had been using and examined its bottom with a small whelp.  She then promptly dumped its contents in the garbage, causing Maggie’s mouth to fall open.

“What the hell??”  

“This is a _kosher_ kitchen, Maggie!” Sydney acted as though this were an obvious fact.  She called Billy over.  “Make sure this gets boiled and then sanitized in an oven for at least an hour,” she told him, handing him the sauté.  Maggie watched the exchange in disbelief, a look that was not lost on Sydney the moment she turned back around.  She made a face of clear annoyance at her and grabbed the recipe binder from a nearby counter where Maggie had tossed it.  “Have you even been reading these?”

“It’s a steak!”  This earned a small snicker from Jimmy behind her.

Sydney looked as if Maggie had just slapped her.  “Go sit in the office and read this entire thing,” she said, shoving the binder at Maggie.  “And stick to the recipe.  My staff never improvises.”

 _You’ve got to be kidding me,_ Maggie thought _._ She could have punched Sydney, if Maggie was the kind of person to do that sort of thing, which she wasn’t.  Usually wasn’t.  Getting mad about the whole kosher deal was one thing, but what kind of chef doesn’t encourage the other cooks to be creative?   _Whatever,_ Maggie thought.  She’d probably improvise a little anyway.  She couldn’t talk back to her executive chef, though, definitely not the first day on the job.  She threw on the most nonchalant face she could muster and took the binder.  “Got it.”

Maggie slipped the binder under her arm and plated her now perfect ragout before heading for the office.

“Don’t skip any pages!” Sydney yelled after her as she slid through the office door.  “I will know if you do!”

 

Maggie rolled her eyes and sat, encouraging the office chair to spin.  With a definitive sigh, she cracked open the front page of the binder and began reading _A Chef’s Guide to Kosher Cooking by Sydney Katz._

\---

Maggie was starting to get a handle on things about halfway through the week.  Though her job wasn’t different from her old one, not yet, she enjoyed it all the same.  She liked working on the line with Jimmy, who’s kind blue eyes, witty jokes, and zen mindframe charmed Maggie more than she wanted to admit.  By far, though, her favorite new coworker was the bartender, Zach.  Apart from being great at his job, Zach was hilarious.  Maggie found herself slipping out of the kitchen as the restaurant closed to catch a few of his laughs.

There were other things she enjoyed about the new restaurant as well.  A hard ass she might be, but Zed’s executive chef was brilliant.  Maggie generally thought herself to be an excellent cook, but she came nowhere close to Sydney’s prowess and creativity.  She had cooked almost every dish on the menu at this point, and she was blown away by the palette Sydney created with her recipes.  It was no wonder Sydney’s staff didn’t improvise.  There was little, if anything, to be improved about the chef’s technique.  As the week wore on, Maggie found herself tucking bits of information she gleaned from Sydney’s dishes into the back of her mind, practicing them in her kitchen at home until she had perfected them.

As her first week came to an end, Maggie finally met Zed’s elusive pastry chef, Shahir.  Alex had been right about him being a little awkward, but Maggie didn’t mind in the slightest.  This was mostly because his desserts, which she had sampled more than a few of, were absolutely delicious.

“Shahir, this is Maggie, our new apprentice sous chef.”

Maggie grinned at him brightly.  “Hello!”

Shahir offered her a slightly pained smile in return.  “Pleasure to meet you.”

Charlie continued his introduction.  “Maggie is going to help you this afternoon.”  This earned him a confused look from Shahir.

“But she’s not a pastry chef.”

“I know,” Charlie said, nodding at the ground, “Just...see if she’s any good.”

“Hey.”  Maggie swatted Charlie on the arm, offended.  He shot her a wink, but otherwise ignored her protests, leaving her to Shahir’s mercy as the pastry chef finally consented to let her stay.

It turned out that Maggie was, in fact, _not_ any good.

“Oh my god, why is this so hard?” She was attempting to mold near paper-thin sheets of phyllo dough into her third mini-muffin pan.  By the time she had finished lining all three pans, she had a newfound respect for Shahir and his fine motor skills.

“Because you don’t have any practice.”  Shahir examined her work.  Maggie could see his discomfort with the idea of letting her very imperfect phyllo shells be baked and sold.  To his credit, though, he only tried to fix, like...half of them.  Eventually he backed away with a nod.  “Okay, so now you just have to layer the insides--raspberry, phyllo, custard, phyllo.”  He said each layer slowly as he demonstrated the procedure.  “Got it?”

 _No._ Maggie shot him a frazzled look, but nodded and set to work.  On her fourth one in, Shahir came to check on her.

“You’re putting in too much filling!”   

“I’m sorry!”

“Just let me do it.”

Fifteen minutes later, Maggie huffed her way back into the regular part of the kitchen, having been ousted by Shahir.

“You look like you’ve had a lot of fun!” Charlie poked at her.

“Oh, shut up.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter 2 glossary of (usually) cooking terms:**
> 
> _Pastry chef_ |  This chef does the desserts. They usually work weird hours/not at the same time as the rest of the crew, sometimes during typical baker’s hours (2-6am). A lot of pastry chefs work for multiple restaurants.  
> ---|---  
> |   
> _Souffle_ |  This can be a savory dish or a dessert. Either way, it's an egg-based dish where a "base" of other ingredients that make up some sort of sauce are combined with beaten egg whites and then baked. They get really puffy and tall.  
> |   
> _Julienne_ |  To cut into short, thin strips (can also be a noun aka a julienne of carrots)  
> |   
> _Mandoline_ |  No, not the string instrument. A mandoline is a slicing tool that allows things (usually dense veggies) to be cut into thin slices. Many will also grate and julienne.  
> |   
> _Sauté_ |  Verb form: to quickly fry in a very small amount of fat. Noun form: 1) a type of dish that is cooked via sautéing 2) a flat, low brimmed, round pan that is used for sautéing. Fun fact - sauté pans and skillets are usually used interchangeably, but a sauté pan has flat sides while a skillet has slanted sides. Skillets are generally more commonly used in the everyday kitchen. They both perform the function of sautéing, though a sauté is better for cooking meats.  
> |   
> _Ragout_ |  Dish generally featuring a type of meat (sometimes just mushrooms or another meat like stand-in is used) that is stewed with various vegetables. It must be very well seasoned or it will fail.  
> |   
> _Phyllo (also spelled filo)_ |  Very thin, buttery dough, used in both savory and sweet dishes. Phyllo is made with flour, water and (usually) oil, and then rolled into large sheets. For pastries, these sheets are then layered on top of one another, with flour in between each layer, then brushed with oil or butter and baked.  
>   
> * * *
> 
> **Veal and Black Truffle Ragout**  
>  \- For two to three servings -
> 
> Ingredients:
> 
>   * 350 grams Veal shank
>   * 150ml Veal or beef stock
>   * 1 leek stock, thinly sliced
>   * 1-2 large carrots, chopped
>   * 1-2  large parsnips, chopped
>   * 100 grams swiss brown mushrooms, chopped
>   * Juice of 1/2 lemon
>   * 0.25 litres dry white wine
>   * 1 bay leaf
>   * 3 cloves (optional)
>   * 2 sprigs thyme
>   * 1 tablespoon fresh sage, chopped
>   * 1 tablespoon garlic, roasted and chopped
>   * Black pepper, ground
>   * Salt to taste
>   * 2 egg yolks
>   * 2 tablespoons pastry flour
>   * 2 stalks fresh parsley and/or basil
>   * Black truffle, pieces or shavings
> 

> 
> For a more flavorful, non-kosher version, saute using butter or ghee, otherwise olive oil may be used.  As truffles are highly expensive, an infused oil is fine (Amazon offers a brilliant black truffle infused ghee that I would highly recommend--reduce salt if ghee is used).  Veal may be substituted for chuck, round, or flank of beef; however, if ease of cooking is your goal, use a cut of higher fat-content such as sirloin.
> 
> Sprinkle chopped mushrooms with lemon juice and saute briefly. Set mushrooms aside. Saute leek, carrots, and parsnips until all are almost tender.  Add veal, spices (without bay, parsley/basil), salt and pepper, and cook until veal is browned.  If cloves are used, bundle cloves and bay leaf in a small amount of cheesecloth and tie. Add stock, white wine, bay leaf (or cheesecloth bundle) and simmer on low heat for up to a 1.5 hours if possible, or medium to high heat for 20-30 minutes.  Remove veal and cut into cubes after meat is rested.  Reduce broth to approx. ¼ litre.  Add veal and mushrooms to pot.  Whisk together egg yolks, flour, and a small amount of broth.  Fold mixture into pot at low heat, stirring constantly until incorporated.
> 
> Plate in shallow bowl. For a more complete, non-kosher dish, serve generous amount of ragout over puff pastry. Garnish with basil or parsley, truffle.


	3. Jalapeño Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Maggie shadows the chef._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of trying to get as much of this out as fast as I possibly can. That being said, I need to apologize in advance for any upcoming delay in posting chapters. I’m trying to get a grant for my research atm, and my schedule right now is like…a 45 hr work week plus doing preliminary research so that i can write a decent proposal come january.

Sydney had expected Maggie to perform well, but she hadn’t expected her to be _this_ good.  Sure, there had been that small unkosher mishap on her first day, but since that moment, Maggie had excelled.  In fact, just a few weeks into the job, she had begun to produce flavors that even Charlie failed at.  So, before she took her regular early Friday leave at the end of Maggie’s third week, Sydney stopped her on her way out of the restaurant.

“Maggie,” she said, reaching out to catch Maggie’ elbow.  “How would you like to shadow me next week?”

“The whole week?”  Maggie was grinning wide, that was a good sign.

“Yeah,” Sydney smiled back at her.  “The whole week.  At least for the managerial stuff.  In fact, I was hoping you might join me at the markets on Monday.”

“Yeah, of course!”

Sydney was genuinely thrilled.  “Can you meet me here at three-thirty Monday morning?  I like to be at the docks right when the fishers come in so we get the best catch of the day.”

Maggie agreed, and Sydney left.

She found herself humming her way back to her apartment.  The past three weeks had been good.  The restaurant was...different with Maggie there.  The staff laughed more.  Sydney laughed more, too.  Maggie carried a lightness about her that was simply contagious.  She was a good hire; Sydney couldn’t dispute that.  She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was looking forward to her week with her apprentice chef.

It was nearing sunset when Sydney got home.  She hadn’t been able leave the restaurant as early as she’d wanted to, and now she was behind schedule.  She would need to hurry if she wanted to have any semblance of a proper Shabbat welcome.  Quickly, she shed her sweaty work clothes and showered before lighting two tall candles and beginning the prayer.  

\---

Sydney sat in her car outside Zed’s front entrance, waiting for Maggie to arrive.  Maggie was nearly fifteen minutes late.  If she didn’t show up within the next ten, Sydney would have to leave without her.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she saw the sous chef’s familiar figure wobble around the corner onto Hope Street.  She started up her car as Maggie drew closer.  Maggie, clearly not used to waking up so early, tried the door to Zed, finding it locked and looking around, confused.  Sydney honked.  A startled Maggie shuffled over and got in.

“Glad you could make it,” Sydney greeted.  A scarf covered most of Maggie’s face so that only her eyes were visible, but Sydney could see that she was smiling at her.

“Sorry I’m late.”  Maggie buckled herself in.

Sydney tried not to giggle.  If she had a dollar for everytime Maggie was late she’d probably double her salary.  “No problem.”

The drive to the harbor was mostly silent after their initial small talk died away.  Before long, Lake Ontario began to appear between the dwindling number of buildings, glimmering in the first light of the morning.

“It’s pretty,” Maggie remarked.

“It is.”

They parked, and Sydney led Maggie to where a few fishers were unloading that morning’s catch from their boats.  Large, colorful bins full of fish found their way onto the harbor docks.

“Morning, Sydney,” a gruff man called out as they approached.  Sydney vaguely caught Maggie look between the two of them in surprise.

“Hello, Nick. How did it go this morning?”

Zed had been one of Nick’s customers for nearly five years, ever since Sydney had joined the staff, and it hadn’t taken him long to learn her name and befriend her.

“Not bad.  Better than some of the other guys.  Bass wasn’t too great today, I hear.  Who’s this you’ve brought?”

“This is Maggie, she’s our newest hire.”  Sydney subconsciously placed her hand on Maggie’s lower back as she introduced them and felt her hand glow instantly warm, despite the fact that the outside of Maggie’s thick coat was cool to the touch.  She removed her hand immediately.  “Maggie, this is Nick, Toronto’s finest salmon fisherman.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said.  He turned down the hand Maggie offered him.  “Trust me, you don’t want to do that.  You’ll smell like fish guts all day.”  He turned back to Sydney.  “The regular, I assume?”

“I think so, yes.”

“I have some walleye as well, if you’d like to take a look while I’m getting you ready.  It’s just there.”  Nick pointed to a stack of three orange bins behind him and Sydney made her way over.

“Nick, these are beautiful,”  Sydney told him as she crouched down to examine them.  “Maggie, come look at these.”

Maggie came to stand over Sydney’s shoulder.  “Yeah,” she said with enthusiasm so fake it sounded more like sarcasm.  

Sydney couldn’t help but laugh, causing Maggie to chuckle along with her.  She _had_ just asked her to stare at a bunch of dead fish.  “I mean what do you think?”  Sydney was still laughing.  She took a breath.  “Should we put it on the menu?”

“Oh.  Um, yes.  We should.”

Sydney turned to smile up at her.  “Okay.”  She stood, taking the small notebook and a pen from her pocket, which she always used to keep track of her purchases.  “If you had to guess, how many pounds do you think we’ll need?”

She’d definitely caught Maggie off guard with that one.  “Uhh….”

“Let me give you a hint.  I’m putting an entire salmon fillet on the menu this week.”  Sydney motioned over to Nick, who was loading three 40-50 lb fish into a giant bag and encapsulating them in ice.  “That’s about 90 lbs of fillets right there.”  She then instructed Maggie on the logistics of putting salmon on the menu:  the popularity of the dish, how many fillets they sold in one night, and how Zed never served fish that had been out of the water for more than three days.

“So, you’ll be back here buying salmon on...Wednesday?”  Maggie’s face was scrunched up, one eye open.

“Most likely, yes.  Unless it does remarkably well, we’ll probably sell the last of this batch first thing Wednesday night.”

“Okay, so,” Maggie’s features continued to run a circus as she processed.  Sydney’s chest did loops as she watched Maggie, smiling.  She ignored these; she was probably just excited that Maggie was understanding.  “Since walleye will be less popular, we should buy less, but still enough to make it to Wednesday?”

Sydney nodded.  “Exactly.  Anything left over after close on Wednesday is considered waste, and we either throw it away or sell it to staff at a discount.”

“That’s smart.”

“It helps keep costs down,” Sydney said, shrugging.  “Plus, the fish is still fresh at that point, and has excellent flavor, so it’s a great deal for everyone involved.”

They ended up buying six walleye, and five largemouth bass from Ben, a few boats down.  Soon, Nick, Ben, and Ben’s son, Tony, had loaded her trunk with over 300 lbs of fish and ice.  Sydney gave them each a hug.  “I wish it was that easy getting the fish out,” she told Maggie as they pulled out of the parking lot.  

Maggie’s eyes widened.  “Wait, are we--”

“No, no.  Charlie and Jackson will be there to help us.  We have a truck coming today.”

They visited the farmer’s market next, filling the rest of Sydney’s trunk and backseat with vegetables and fruit.  

“Couldn’t you just get these from a distributor?”  Maggie asked, moving the passenger seat forward and nearly depriving herself of all legroom in order to fit a box of tomatoes on the backseat floor.

Sydney shrugged, placing a box of lettuce on top of Maggie’s tomatoes.  “Yes.  We could, but that’s not really the point.  And we do get a lot of things from a distributor, like dairy, eggs, beef, root vegetables....”  She began squeezing containers of raspberries in wherever she could.  “And toilet paper.  But the flavor of some things are always better from the markets.”

This seemed to satisfy Maggie somewhat, and they got in the car themselves and took off, Magie sitting cross-legged on top of her chair, unable to fit her knees between the seat and the dashboard.  By the time they pulled up in front of Zed, it was after 6:00 a.m. and Maggie was fast asleep.  Sydney reached over and touched her arm gently.  “Maggie.”

No luck.

“ _Maggie._ ”  Maggie jolted awake with surprised eyes.

_She’s cute._

“Jackson’s here.  We’re just going to unload the car and then I can take you home.”

“No, I can help,”  Maggie replied in a slur.

“I think it’s probably better if our produce makes it into the restaurant in one piece.”

She, Jackson, and Charlie, who showed up a few minutes later, had only been working for about fifteen minutes before Sydney’s car was empty and Maggie was, again, asleep.  She found Charlie instead, hounding him for directions before taking Maggie home.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, Maggie,” Sydney said on their third night together, “come look over the menu with me.”

Maggie had never been so exhausted in her life.  She had been running all of Sydney’s managerial tasks during the day, working line, and heading closes at night.  This morning they had taken their second trip to the harbor leaving Maggie completely drained.  As hard as it was, though, it had been the most rewarding few days of Maggie’s career.

She joined Sydney behind the computer in the office where Sydney was transposing her notes onto the screen.  “Here,” she said, handing Maggie her notebook and continuing to type.

“Sydney, this is illegible.”

Sydney spluttered, turning red.  “It is not!”

“Uh, yeah.  It is.  Were you a doctor in another life or something?  Because this is _bad._ ”

The chef snatched the notebook back out of Maggie’s hands.  “Fine. I’m almost finished typing it anyway, just give me a minute.”  A few moments later, Sydney spun around, putting her hands up and looking pointedly at Maggie.  “ _There you go_.”

Maggie smirked and scooted closer so she could read the screen over Sydney’s shoulder.  She nodded every few seconds, impressed, as always.  “Looks good!”  She sat back in her chair.

“Yeah?  I’m a little worried about the gravlax, do you think it will sell?”

“I don’t see why not.”  Maggie had seen many new sides to Sydney over the past couple of days, but uncertainty in her food was a new one.  “Your dishes always sell.”

Sydney beamed at the compliment.  “Thank you,” she said, her smile fading as she reread the menu.  “I need one more entreé though.  What’s your best dish?”

She knew immediately.  “I make a pretty mean soufflé.”

Her confidence began to wane as Sydney turned to survey her, eyes narrowed.  “We got an unexpected amount of spinach from our distributor.  Think you can implement it?”

Maggie nodded.  “Of course.”

“Good.”  Sydney stood and Maggie followed suit.  “Is Shahir still here?”

“No, he left.”

“Perfect.  I want you to take over at his station and do a trial batch of soufflés.  Use anything in stock, but make sure you weigh everything you use, okay?”

“You got it, chef.”

\---

It was Maggie’s final night shadowing Sydney when Joel, Zed’s token Aussie server, came into the back and tossed a full plate of food onto the keep-warm counter.  “I have been compelled by a Mr. Zarb on table four to ask if any of you have ever cooked a rare steak before,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Maggie watched Sydney, who had just emerged from the fridge with her clipboard, sigh up at the ceiling, shaking her head in a mixture of what could only be annoyance and disbelief.  Sydney briefly pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Maggie, will you take care of that?”

“Sure,” Maggie nodded, rushing to grab a fresh steak from the meats cooler.  As she finished plating it, Sydney was taking her place for the night behind the head chef’s station.

“I’m just going to deliver this steak, I’ll be right back,” Maggie told Sydney as she skirted around the chef and out of the kitchen.

Maggie caught Joel in the dining room, grabbing him by the extra material on his sleeve.  She probably didn’t need to brush _quite_ so close to him, but she wasn’t about to pretend like he wasn’t ridiculously attractive.  “Which one’s table four,” she asked him, enjoying the scent of his cologne.  

Joel made a cheeky remark about her newness and pointed to a table near the front of the restaurant where a couple and their infant son were seated.  The man was visibly upset.  “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”  Maggie made her way over as Mr. Zarb eyed her with displeasure.  She forced an enthusiastic smile.  “Hello, Mr. Zarb, my name is Maggie,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear you did not enjoy your first steak.  I’ve cooked a fresh one for you.”  She placed the plate in front of him.

He surveyed the dish and then looked Maggie up and down.  “Did you do the first one?”

“No, I did not.  I hope you find this one to your liking.”

“I seriously doubt that.  Are you the executive chef?”

 _Good lord._  Maggie was grateful she wasn’t a server.  “I’m the sous chef.  Chef Katz is very busy this evening and asked if I would prepare this especially for you.”  It wasn’t a _complete_ lie.

Mr. Zarb rolled his eyes.  Picking up his fork and knife, he sawed into the steak, inspecting it carefully before taking a bite.  With reluctance, he nodded at Maggie.  “It’s good.”

Of course it was.  Maggie wasn’t stupid.  She wished the Zarb’s a good evening and fled back to her station in the kitchen, shuddering.  Sydney looked at her expectantly when she arrived and Maggie nodded a smile at her.

“Thank you,” Sydney said in reply.

“Don't mention it.”

The rest of the night was...eventful.  Maggie stopped calling out “behind you” about thirty minutes after retaking her spot in the head chef’s station because, well, she was _always_ behind Sydney.  Or next to Sydney.  Or just in general _way too close to Sydney_.

Finally Maggie had collided with her while grabbing an ingredient from under the plating counter and Sydney snapped.

“Maggie!” It was a yell. “You have a full one of these above your stove! Look!”  Sydney had then proceeded to show Maggie exactly the ingredient she had missed, making a whole lot of commotion as she did so.  Maggie tried to ignore the staff around her that were starting to stare, including Charlie.

“Sorry, chef, I didn’t know.”

Wow, nope, _this_ was Sydney yelling.  Very, very angry yelling for no logical reason at all.  “Why don’t you just move to a different station!!”

But. “I thought I was supposed to be shadowing you?”  

Maggie’s comment was the opposite of helpful.  Sydney was irate.  “I’m sick of bumping into you, and you don’t really have the skills be working at head station anyway, so just go.”

_Ouch._

Maggie ducked her head, swallowing hard.  She fought the tears that immediately begged to flood her eyes.  “Sure, chef.”  She felt the eyes of the entire kitchen staff follow her as she gathered her things and moved to the station Sydney indicated, which was as far away from the head station as possible.  She started up her burners and kept cooking, refusing to look at anyone, especially Sydney.

She couldn’t believe it.  Things had been going so well with the chef.  Wasn’t it just that morning that they were laughing together at the market?  While Maggie and Sydney hadn’t exactly hit it off in the beginning, Sydney was growing on Maggie.  She’d felt like she had found a real friend.  Talking with Sydney was easy, even easier that it was with Alex sometimes.  But maybe it wouldn’t be so easy anymore.

Maggie’s initial hurt turned to anger as the night wore on.  How could Sydney just say something like that? Maggie knew she was a good cook, and she _did_ have the skills to be at the head station.  Sydney herself, who had been randomly checking Maggie’s dishes for correctness the past several weeks, had told Maggie she thought she had talent.  It didn’t make sense, and it wasn’t fair.  

Maggie confronted Sydney after her closing duties were over and all but a few had left for the night.  She knocked on the office door, opening it only after she’d heard Sydney’s “Come in _”_ from inside.

Sydney had taken her toque off, but her hair was still up, her back to Maggie as she worked at the computer.  “I would appreciate if in the future you could consult me privately about my mistakes instead of yelling at me in front of everyone,” Maggie said when the chef craned her head to look at her.

Sydney turned.  “Look, Maggie.  I like you.  You’re smart, efficient…but I’m still your boss.”  She busied herself with paperwork as it finished printing.  “I’m here to teach you.”

Maggie found herself instantly enraged at Sydney’s stubbornness and complete lack of empathy.  “And what exactly are you teaching me,” Maggie’s voice was raised, her hands waving in anger, “by _humiliating_ me in front of the entire kitchen?”

To her further disbelief, Sydney continued to nearly ignore her, moving to her locker and opening it.  As she pulled her purse and coat from the locker and began to remove her tunic, Maggie thought she might never get an answer.  Finally, Sydney spoke.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pausing to look over at Maggie.  “I may have been a little too harsh with my comments.”

 _Yeah, no shit._  

Maggie went to reply, but thought better of it.  Sydney didn’t deserve it.  Instead she found her own locker, twisting the lock open and harshly unbuttoning her tunic.  Though Sydney had now donned her outdoor coat and grabbed her purse from the office chair, the chef was still watching her.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sydney shuffle on her feet and rub her neck, clearly uncomfortable.  Maggie’s anger softened.  Perhaps the chef did feel some remorse.

Barely above a whisper, Sydney spoke again.  “You did good today.”

Maggie sighed to herself, remembering their laughter this morning.  Silently, she forgave Sydney.  She didn’t know if she was capable of holding a grudge, anyway.  She slid her chef coat from her shoulders, folding it and placing it inside her locker.

“Our numbers are high this week.  That’s because of you.”

 _Oh._ A smile was pushed onto Maggie’s face at Sydney’s words.  “Thank you.”  She turned, looking the chef in the eyes, allowing her grin to widen.  Sydney smiled at her in return.  Maggie bit her lip.  “It was a good week.”

Except she didn’t quite finish that sentence.  Instead, Maggie found herself with her back against the lockers, Sydney’s mouth on her own.  Her mind went blank.  Out of instinct, her hand found it’s way to her boss’s face.  Lips continued to press against her own for a second longer before Sydney pulled away, her eyes wide when they met Maggie’s stunned gaze.  

Sydney was gone before Maggie had the chance to properly register what happened, if it even happened.  

“That was strange.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter 3 glossary of (usually) culinary terms:**  
>  _Gravlax_ \- this is a dish of cured, raw salmon which is cut into very thin slices. It’s generally served as an appetizer with a sauce over bread or potatoes.


	4. Don't Be Afraid to Take Whisks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The aftermath_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is language in this chapter and i ain’t talking about the hebrew  
> so  
> apologies

_Shit._

Sydney wasn’t really one for swearing, but--

_Oh, hell._

_Damnit…damnit!_

_Shit!_

_Shit, shit, shit!_

This was not happening.  This _couldn’t_ be happening.  Maggie was shadowing her that evening and she, Maggie, and Charlie were all crammed into the small head chefs’ station.  Every several minutes, Sydney would turn around, or move over too far, or step too quickly and bump into Maggie.  It shouldn’t have been a problem.  Sydney was a professional, and bumping was a regular occurrence in the kitchen.  Hell, she and Charlie ran into each other all the time.  But--

_Fuck._

Sydney had stepped back from the plating counter to grab something from underneath as Maggie turned around with the intent to do the same, slamming the full length of Sydney’s back against Maggie’s front. Maggie’s outstretched arm slid accidentally into the space between Sydney’s elbow and body. Sydney’s heart stopped.

“Oof. Sorry.”  Maggie took a step back and grabbed Sydney’s shoulders, steering herself around the smaller chef.  She was clearly unaffected beyond being solidly winded.  

Sydney turned a deep shade of red.

This was not happening.

She did not have _feelings_ for _Maggie._

Maggie fetched the container she needed and stood, returning to her stove.  Sydney briefly saw what was in her hand.

“ _Maggie!_ ” Sydney practically yelled, grabbing her subordinate by the wrist.  At the back of her mind, Sydney knew her anger was irrational, but it was too late now.  “You have a full one of these above your stove! Look!”  She plucked the container from Maggie’s captive hand and slammed it down on the plating counter.  Charlie looked up from his work.  

With ferocity, Sydney crossed their station and grabbed the same ingredient from above where Maggie had been working.  She shoved it into Maggie’s chest.  “Here,” she scolded.

“Sorry, chef, I didn’t know”  Maggie looked shocked, and a little hurt.  She looked--

_No, no, no, nope. This isn’t happening._

“You know what?” Sydney really was yelling now.  “Why don’t you just move to a different station!”  She pointed to where Shahir worked during the day, all the way on the other side of the kitchen.  “That one.”

“I thought I was supposed to be shadowing you.”

The other chefs had by now all turned from their places, watching the scene unfold.  A few servers stood waiting for plates with their mouths hanging open.

“Yeah?  Well, I’m sick of bumping into you, and you don’t really have the skills be working at head station anyway, so just go.”  It was too much.  In fact, it wasn’t even true, and Sydney knew that.  She shouldn’t have gotten so mad over a stupid ingredient, but with the shock of her _feelings_ she hadn’t been able to stop herself.

Maggie stared back at her, wide-eyed and vulnerable.  Sydney felt a pang of guilt as the reality of what she had just done hit her like a ton of bricks.  She lowered her voice.  “Please.”

Maggie swallowed and nodded, glancing around at the many pairs of eyes staring at the both of them.  “Sure, chef.”  She picked up two sauté pans from the stove and walked them to Shahir’s station as told.  Sydney couldn’t see her face.

“Everyone back to work,” Sydney instructed, still full of remorse.  Slowly, the kitchen returned to its regular bustle.

The rest of the night was awkward and quiet.  No one dared look Sydney in the eyes.  Even Dawn seemed to avoid conflict, keeping to the dining room and barely wishing her goodnight after the final guests had left.  As soon as she could, Sydney retreated to the office to run the night’s numbers, eager to escape the high tensions of the kitchen.

The staff began invading her space about an hour later, gathering their belongings from their lockers and going home.  The restaurant grew increasingly quiet.  Once Sydney thought she might be the only one there, she shut the office door and buried herself in her reports.

Until someone knocked.

“Come in,” Sydney called, not bothering to turn around.  

The door opened softly, but no one came into the office. Finally, Sydney looked over her shoulder.  It was Maggie.

“I would appreciate if in the future you could consult me privately about my mistakes instead of yelling at me in front of everyone,” she said.

Sydney sighed and turned her chair to face Maggie.  “Look, Maggie,” she began, “I like you. You’re smart, efficient--” _beautiful_ , she thought, immediately and silently scolding her mind for filling in such a word.  She exhaled heavily.   “But I’m still your boss.”  It was more a reminder for herself than for Maggie.  She pulled her reports from the printer and placed them on the desk, unwilling to look Maggie in the eyes.  “I’m here to teach you,” she said, standing and reaching for the combination lock on her locker door.

Maggie made a strangled noise.  “And what exactly are you teaching me by humiliating me in front of the entire kitchen?”

Sydney stared into her open locker, fresh guilt washing over her.  “I’m sorry,” she said, finally meeting Maggie’s gaze.  “I may have been a little too harsh with my comments.”

Maggie simply pursed her lips and Sydney turned back to her locker, swallowing hard.  She pulled from it her belongings and traded in her chef coat for her warm winter one.  Maggie joined her at the lockers, opening her own.

“You did good today,” Sydney told her as Maggie finished unbuttoning her tunic.  She wanted to repair what she had done.  “Our numbers are high this week.  That’s because of you.”

Maggie pulled off her chef coat and turned to face Sydney.  “Thank you,” she said gently.  The spark had returned to Maggie’s eyes, telling Sydney she had accomplished her goal.  Sydney’s stomach clenched as Maggie slowly smiled.

And there they were, the feelings she was trying so hard to avoid.  Her heartbeat sped up and she felt a swelling in her chest.  It was like her lungs had disappeared.  It was overwhelming and wholly, suffocatingly full of Maggie.

Then Maggie had bitten her lip, and Sydney lost control.  One hand still clutching her purse, Sydney surged forward, pushing Maggie against the lockers and kissing her, hard.

It didn’t last long.  The last thing Sydney felt was Maggie’s soft hand against her cheek, pulling her back to reality.  She pushed off from where her hand had slid from Maggie’s face to her shoulder and fled, feeling Maggie’s stunned eyes follow her through the office window.  She pushed through the kitchen doors to find Alex and Charlie in quiet conversation, sitting at a nearby booth.  Her face flushed.  Did they know what had just happened between Sydney and her newest trainee?

 _Of course not,_ she shook herself mentally, willing her eyes to stop burning.  She approached their table.

"Charlie, can you lock up?  Maggie is still in the back."

He nodded.  "Of course, have a good night."

Sydney didn't respond, her throat thick and tears rising.  She broke into the night air as quickly as she could.  The moment the restaurant door swung shut, she felt herself begin to sob.

It wasn't fair.  These feelings, they weren't fair.  Things had been going...okay...with her new boyfriend.  Herschel was kind.  He was a good man, and he was wealthy.  He was everything her family and her community could have asked for.  Sydney had almost started to feel at peace with the relationship, had almost accepted that she could be with Herschel, even if he was a man.  It was what G-d wanted.  Not this.  Not Maggie.

Not her.

Sydney stopped at a break between two buildings, now a block away from Zed.  She ducked into the alleyway and slumped against the building wall, a gloved hand over her mouth to muffle her cries.

Sydney had known for years that she was...different.  There had been girls, growing up, that she'd had feelings for.  When she was young she brushed it off, buried it as deep as she could.  She couldn't  be...this thing.  G-d wouldn't make her this way, so it couldn't be real.  It wasn't until her first year at university, away from her family, away from the Rabbi she'd grown up with, that Sydney had allowed herself to consider what might be happening.  

And she hated it.

She resented what she was.  She resented the women in in cooking school, in her first kitchen,  in all the kitchens after that made her feel this way.  They took her G-d from her.  It was their fault if He loved her less.  Sydney had _wanted_ to hate all those women.

But she didn't hate Maggie.

Hot tears continued to stream down Sydney's face, cooling instantly on her cheeks with the winter wind, causing a sting.  She couldn't wipe them away fast enough.

She didn't want to hate Maggie.  Not now, not ever.  And that terrified her.  She wanted something that she could never, never have.

But Maggie was warm.  Maggie made her heart feel like it was flying.  One smile, one encouraging word from Maggie and Sydney could do anything.  Maggie had eyes that lifted her spirits, and a passion for cooking that pushed her own creativity to new levels.  And when Sydney kissed her, Maggie had touched her face.  Maggie had almost kissed her back.

_I can’t do this._

Sydney brought her weight back on her own feet and resumed her short walk home.  Now exhausted, her tears were finally beginning to dry.

 _I can’t feel this way,_ Sydney thought.   _Not about her._

As she opened the door to her apartment, she let her hand trail over the mezuzah hung on its frame.  She allowed herself to truly feel the patterns engraved in the metal, feel the meaning of the words it contained.

.שְׁמַע, יִשְׂרָאֵל:  יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ, יְהוָה אֶחָד

.וְאָהַבְתָּ, אֵת יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, בְּכָל-לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל-נַפְשְׁךָ, וּבְכָל-מְאֹדֶךָ

.וְהָיוּ הַדְּבָרִים הָאֵלֶּה, אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי מְצַוְּךָ הַיּוֹם--עַל-לְבָבֶךָ

 

_Hear, O Israel: the L-RD our G-d, the L-RD is one._

_And thou shalt love the L-RD thy G-d with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might._

_And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be upon thy heart;_

 

When the door closed, Sydney fell again against the wall, too drained to cry this time.  She knew what G-d required of her, what she needed to do.  She fished her phone from her purse and dialed quickly.  Her mouth was dry.

“Herschel?  Sorry it’s so late.  Did I wake you?  Sorry.  I just wanted to ask...are you free tomorrow?  I think we should talk.  No, it’s not bad.  I just...I thought about what you said.  I think I’m ready.”

 

* * *

 

Maggie laughed as she and Alex went through their old high school photos.

“Oh my god, look at your _hair.”_

Alex snorted into her beer.  “Look at _both_ our hair.  Jesus.  It’s a miracle either of us even had dates to prom.”

“I dunno, your date looks pretty into it.”

“That guy was a clueless idiot.  Kind of like my fiance.”

Maggie rolled her eyes.  Theoretically, she knew why Alex and Charlie were in a rough spot in their relationship, but she didn’t really _get_ it.  “What exactly is up with you two, anyway?”  She took another chug of alcohol.

Alex shook her head.  “It’s complicated.  And I’m too drunk to care right now.”

Maggie frowned, but didn’t push.

“How’s your dating life these days?  It’s been, what, like four months since you and Gavin broke up?  You’ve got to be shagging someone by now.”

Maggie’s mouth dropped open, eyes wide in fake offense.  “None of your business,” she chided, giggling.  

Alex laughed back at that and turned to face Maggie on the couch.  “Like hell it isn’t.  You don’t get defensive unless there’s juicy details, so spill.”

Maggie considered this.  Should she mention Sydney?  Probably not.  She was having a hard enough time sorting out Sydney’s kiss on her own and telling Alex could make it even messier that it already was.  “Hmm.  Nope.  Not telling.”  She checked her watch.  It was nearing two in the morning.  “Also, we have work tomorrow.”

“Oh c’mon.  Not until three.”

“Staff meeting at noon?  Did you forget?”

“Oh, shit, yeah,”  Alex’s face fell.  “Well, don’t think you’re off the hook.  We will continue this conversation tomorrow.”

_Over my dead body._

It had been several weeks since Sydney had kissed her and Maggie had thought about little else since.  The chef had been avoiding her, which didn’t make sense.  Who kisses someone—especially like _that_ —and then just...ignores them?

It was annoying, to put it lightly.

The fact was, as unexpected as the kiss had been, it wasn’t exactly...unwelcome.  Not _really_ .  Maggie had only dated men, sure.  But wasn’t that just more of a coincidence?  Maybe not.  Probably not.  But the more Maggie thought about her situation, about _Sydney_ , the more she felt like maybe it was a coincidence after all.

\---

_Save the date._

_Save the_ fucking _date._

Sydney’s words echoed in her mind her entire shift.  The chef had completely missed their staff meeting, and instead she came bouncing in with a white shoebox under her arm sometime later.  Seriously, she was _bouncing._  Sydney was very grounded; she never bounced.  What the hell had happened?

And then she’d stopped Maggie while Maggie was on her way to take a piss, insisting she join her at the bar where she was rifling through that damn shoebox.  Then—

“Save the date,” she’d said, handing Maggie an envelope and beaming like some broken wind up monkey toy.  You know, with the cymbals?  Anyway, it was stupid.

_What the fuck._

“For what?”  Because there was _no way_ it could have been exactly what she was thinking.

Or, yeah, it was. “I’m getting married!”

 _What the actual_ fuck.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you were engaged.”  She’d tried to sound enthusiastic, she really had.  In fact, she had tried—was _still_ trying—to convince herself she even felt happy about it.

“Yeah, it just happened. Herschel and I have been together almost ten weeks, so....”

Again with the monkey face.

 _Wow_. “Wow.” _Uh_.  “Ever heard of...getting to know one another?”  Because, gee, what a thought.

“That’s what a lifetime of wedded bliss is for.”

Bliss.  With a stranger.  Right.  Maggie had given that enthusiasm thing another shot and nodded emphatically.

“Besides, there’s no reason to wait.”

Maggie hadn’t been able to help herself after that.  “Hmm...I can think of one.”

And—Sydney had ignored her.  Scooped up her shit and scurried off, looking much less thrilled than she had seconds earlier.  “Wear a skirt, cover your shoulders, and do something with that...hair.”

 _Oh my god, there’s nothing wrong with my hair._ She’d run her fingers through it briefly, watching the kitchen door swing open and shut to accommodate Sydney and her stupid box.

“It’s okay, Maggie, I like your hair.”  Zach, who was polishing glasses behind the bar, decided to pitch in his two cents. “It’s very…90s surfer dude.”

Maggie glared at him. “I need to pee.”

_Save the date._

Then there she was, several hours later, garnishing a salmon tartare with caviar and shredded basil and absolutely fuming.

“Doing alright, there, Lin?”

Maggie might have thrown her tartare up to the head counter for approval a little too violently, and Charlie was now alternating between readjusting now scattered caviar and staring at her with his eyebrows reaching record-breaking heights.

“I’m fine!”  Shit-eating forced grin?  Check.

_Save the date._

Maggie specifically waited around after close for Sydney to finish her reports and clear out for the day.  She fell into step next to Sydney as she was crossing the dining room floor.

“I saved the date,”  she said nonchalantly, holding the door open for Sydney with her back, arms folded.  And she had.  Her phone calendar now had an entry entitled _Sydney Katz’ Goddamn Jewish Ass Wedding_ , and she’d enjoyed every second of writing it.  Mostly.

Sydney sighed, motioning for Maggie to move so she could lock up.  Compared with her earlier mood, she was much deflated.  “Look, I know you probably want some explanation as to...why I….”

“Kissed me?”  Maggie offered, part angered, part jesting, part wondering why the hell Sydney couldn’t just _say it_.  “The Kiss! We kissed!”  She said the word over and over again, shrugging and flailing her arms and watching Sydney become more uncomfortable each time.

“It was nothing.”

 _Alright_.  If Sydney wasn’t going to talk to her about it, Maggie would just have to try to flirt it out of her.  “So, I should be flattered,” she joked, flashing playful eyes at the chef.

Sydney was having none of it.  “Oh, get over yourself.”  She walked around Maggie, heading in the direction Maggie assumed was home.  “Forget it ever happened.”

Maggie nearly laughed out loud.  “Is that what you’re doing?  Forgetting it?  You’re marrying a guy you _hardly_ know.”

Sydney spun around, giving Maggie some speech about her age and how she was _lucky_ to be getting married then resumed her walk down the street at high speed.

“But do you love him?”

Nothing.  No response.  Sydney ignored her again.

\---

The next afternoon, while Sydney was in a meeting with Dawn and Charlie was off doing his...pining after Alex thing, Maggie posed her question to the masses.

“So, hypothetically, a seemingly hetero girl...kisses a hetero girl.  It’s gotta mean something, right?”

“Sexual fluidity,” said Shahir, whom she was shadowing.  She paused her stirring of a large pot of raspberry compote to look blankly at him. “It’s a thing.  Keep stirring that and turn the heat down, it’s going to burn.”

Wayne, their new dishwasher, made his way over. “So, who’d you kiss?”

Maggie considered answering for a fraction of a second before frowning and shaking her head.  “I should get a hobby,” she observed instead.  “A new one.”

“As opposed to hooking up women,” Wayne asked with a snicker.

“Oh my god, _no_.  As opposed to hanging around you idiots all the time.  Like, an instrument, maybe.”

“My sister’s a lesbian,” Jimmy interjected.  “I’m sure she could give you some pointers on, uh... _instruments_.”

“ _Oh my god.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, Syd’s part of this was hard to write. Too close to home for me, you know? I grew up Mormon (fun fact, I’m actually an Ashkenazi Jew by race/ancestry), went through nearly the exact same things as Syd. In almost every aspect, Syd’s story _is_ my story and honestly, I’ve never connected with a character more. I hope I was able to accurately express what it feels like to be torn in half between religion and sexuality. It’s not a comfy thing. So much love in my heart for Sydney Katz.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Chapter 4 glossary of (usually) cooking terms:**  
>  _Mezuzah_ \- a piece of parchment, generally held in a case, with a very specific set of verses from the Torah (Deuteronomy 6:4-9 and 11:13-21). In this set of verses, Jews are instructed to hang them on the “door posts of thy house and upon thy gates.”
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Reci-fucking-pies** (recipes is spelled like this ok do not spell wrong on my account ty)
> 
> **Salmon Tartare**  
>  ~4 servings
> 
> Ingredients
> 
>   * 300g salmon (fillets), finely diced -- you need high quality salmon for this
>   * 2 tbsp dry sherry
>   * 1 tsp fresh basil, chopped
>   * ½ lime, juiced
>   * ½ tsp fresh cilantro, chopped
>   * 2 ounces salmon caviar
>   * 1 tsp shallot, minced
>   * Salt and black pepper
>   * 2 tbsp peanut or sesame oil  (or just a nice oil)
> 

> 
> Directions
> 
> Toss together all ingredients, excluding caviar.  Chill.  Plate using ring mold and press.  Garnish each tower with ¼ ounce salmon caviar and fresh basil.
> 
> **_Bonus grapefruit salad (goes good with a lotta shit esp the salmon tartare)_ **
> 
> _~ up to 4 servings_
> 
> Ingredients:
> 
>   * 1-2 grapefruit (rest of ingredients portioned for 2 grapefruit, so half these if you’re making fewer servings)
>   * 2 tbsp fresh mint, chopped
>   * 1 tsp honey
>   * 1 tbsp fennel seed
>   * 2-3 tbsp fetta
>   * black pepper, fresh ground
>   * ⅛ tsp Fine sea salt
>   * ½ bunch watercress, chopped into large pieces (optional, or you can add more than ½ bunch if you like a leafy salad)
>   * ½ pomegranate (optional)
>   * Up to 5 tbsp high quality olive oil
> 

> 
> Directions
> 
> Toss all ingredients together using enough olive oil for a light coating and serve immediately.
> 
> **Spinach and Comté Souffle**  
>  ~ 2 servings
> 
> Ingredients
> 
>   * 1 egg, separated
>   * 100 ml milk
>   * 1 tbsp unsalted butter
>   * 1 tbsp all-purpose flour, sifted
>   * 20 g walnuts, finely chopped
>   * 55 g fresh spinach, washed drained and finely shredded
>   * 10 g Comté, grated (it’s an aged cheese)
>   * 40 g onion or leek, chopped
>   * ½ tbsp garlic, chopped
>   * ½ tbsp fresh rosemary, chopped
>   * ¼ tsp salt
>   * ⅛ tsp pepper
>   * ⅛ tsp nutmeg
> 

> 
> Directions
> 
> Preheat oven to 220C/425F.  Saute onions/leek, walnuts, and garlic over medium-low heat until onion becomes translucent.  Do not allow onion to brown.  Add spinach and milk and bring to boil (or cook until spinach is wilted). Remove from heat. 
> 
> In separate pan, melt butter over medium-low heat and whisk in flour. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes, stirring constantly.  Do not allow to brown.  Add in spinach, milk, and onion mixture, stirring constantly.  Simmer until until incorporated and slightly thickened.  Stir in salt, pepper, nutmeg and Comté, mixing well.  Whisk egg yolk in separate bowl.  Add small amount of sauce to yolk to temper.  Add tempered mixture to sauce and whisk until combined. In a separate bowl, whisk egg white until stiff peaks and fold into sauce carefully in halves.
> 
> Butter 2 individual ramekins generously, then pour in sauce (do this gently).  Place ramekins into roasting or baking tin and gently pour boiling water into the tin (NOT the ramekins) until water level reaches halfway up sides of the ramekins.  Bake until puffed and golden, about 20 mins.  Serve immediately. 


	5. We've Got a Latte Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In which Dana is not my favorite character._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that have been following along, this chapter was going to be the end of chapter 4. The actual chapter 4 has been updated with some fixes and whatever, but I didn’t end up extending it.
> 
> also thanks for reading my shit? like u comment and give me kudos and whatnot and i suddenly become a fucking peachy ray of sunshine so thank you

In perhaps the greatest oversight in restaurant history, Zed had somehow run out of red wine.

“Drinking on the job now, Lin?”  Zach shot at Maggie as she came ducking behind the bar counter.

“Ha. Ha,” she said, rolling her eyes at him.  “We are completely out of red wine back there!  We’re doomed.”

“It’s only eight o’clock.”

“I know.”  Maggie dragged a half-empty case of wine from under the bar.

“Whoa, hold up there, big shot.  That’s the good stuff.”  Zach came bounding over and pushed the box from Maggie’s lap and back into place.  “Take some of this,” he said, patting an adjacent shelf where a few loose bottles were sitting, “we never sell it.”

“Is...there a reason?”  Maggie was apprehensive.

“I don’t like it.  It’s too zingy.”

She shook her head at him, mouth open and eyes squinting.  “Zingy?”

Zach had stood to his full height and now stuck out his bottom lip, nodding.  “Yeah.  Zingy.”

“I thought that was the point of wine.”

“Look, I’m the bartender, and you asked for my opinion.”

“I didn’t.”

Zach smirked.  “Take the wine, Lin.  You’re doomed, remember?  Leave me two bottles, but you can have the rest.”

“Thanks, _Zingy_.”

The three bottles Maggie had acquired disappeared within the hour, and before she knew it, she was back behind Zach’s bar.

“What are you doing?”

Maggie didn’t answer.  “Where’s your zing?”

“I sold it.”

She stood up, glaring at Zach.  “What?  I thought you said it doesn’t sell!”

“I lied.”

“What am I going to do?”  Maggie slumped against the counter, folding her arms and pouting.  She couldn't believe it.

Zach was counting bills into his till.  “Did you check the back?” he asked, not looking over.

The man was insufferable sometimes.  “Of course I checked the back,” Maggie shook her head.

“Check it again?”

Unfortunately, at this point, checking the back was the only thing she _could_ do.  Maggie huffed her way through the place they usually kept the alcohol, coming up empty before moving on through the rest of the storage room.   _If I were a case of wine, where would I be_ , she asked herself, as if it would help.  After several minutes, she was about to give up when she shifted a box at the back of the room and heard a distinct _chink_.  The box was already open, it’s flaps folded over one another.  Maggie pulled them apart and looked in.

Inside the box was an assortment of...empty bottles?  No, they weren’t all empty.  She pulled a nearly full flask of whisky out, followed by a half-full bottle of vodka.

“What on earth?”

“Oh! Chef Maggie!”  One of the young servers that Maggie hadn’t actually met yet appeared in the doorway.  “Uh, Chef Sydney is looking for you.”

Strange.  “Okay, well, tell her I’ll be there in a minute.”  

The girl left.  Maggie placed the bottles she was holding on the storage room shelf and returned to the kitchen to locate Sydney.  To her luck (and slight dismay) she found the chef in aggravated conversation with Alex.

“I’m just saying that as a pregnant woman, you shouldn’t be--”

“Who told you I’m pregnant??”

“Syd,”  Maggie said forcefully to get her attention.  Alex ran off with a tray of dishes, extremely upset.  Sydney looked over at her, blinking and silent. “Did you need me for something?”

Sydney stared at her, a mixture of confusion, annoyance and...something else on her face.  “No.”

“But that server just said--”

“Which server?  Alex?”

“No,” Maggie shook her head rapidly.  “That one girl.  She’s young, blonde hair.”  

“Molly?  Dana’s daughter?”

“Sure?”

“What about my daughter?”  Dana came walking her latest plate over to head station.  Her eyes were sharp, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Well, she just lied to me, for one,” Maggie said, rubbing an itch between her eyebrows and feeling stressed.  “I mean, I don’t really know her, but Sydney said--”

“Molly didn’t lie to you.”

“Okay.  I mean, it’s _possible_ she didn’t.  But--”

“It’s possible?”  Dana had now come around the counter and was standing very close to Maggie, arms on her hips and eyes ablaze.  “What reason would a seventeen year old have to lie to you?”

Maggie hesitated, shifting back and forth on her feet.  She began repeatedly threading and unthreading her fingertips.  “Look, there’s not really any easy way to say this, but I think she might be stealing alcohol.”

Suddenly, Maggie had Charlie’s attention, too, besides that of Sydney and Dana.

“Whoooa,” he muttered, head cocked as he made his way over.  “I can’t have someone stealing from my business.”

Dana ignored Charlie, continuing to challenge Maggie.  “That’s ridiculous.  My daughter would never do such a thing.”  Her tone was biting and laced with rage.  “Shame on you for spreading rumors just to feed your oversized ego.”

“I’m not spreading rumors!”  Maggie huffed out a sigh, face contorted in confusion.  “Maybe Molly isn’t the one stealing the alcohol, but something definitely doesn’t match up.” She felt herself becoming more and more frustrated.  She technically had superiority over Dana as a sous chef, but Dana was in her late 50s and had been cooking a long time.  In comparison, Maggie had yet to turn 30 years old and had just finished cooking school a few years ago.  She couldn’t put herself above the line cook when she wasn’t.  And Dana was good at her job, if a little uptight sometimes.  Maggie had once seen her peel the skin off a tomato with a chef's knife, leaving behind a perfect, rose-shaped work of art.  

Dana’s skills with a knife did not make her any easier to get along with, however.

“What isn’t matching up,” she hissed, “is your attempt to hide your obvious drinking addiction by framing it on a teenager!”

“What?? No! Dana, I would never do that!”  At this point, the only thing keeping Maggie from lashing out at her were Sydney and Charlie’s small outbursts of protest as they tried to defend Maggie.

The kitchen doors flew open and the four of them flinched as Dawn came walking in, her hawk-like eyes examining them narrowly.  “What’s going on?”

Maggie and Dana both erupted, beating each other to the chase.

Charlie raised his voice, cutting them off.  “ _Okay_!  Both of you!  Let’s just settle down, shall we?”

Maggie and Dana fell silent a moment before Maggie spoke up again, quieter this time.  “I found a box of drinks in the back that looked like someone’s secret stash.  I think they might have been taken from the restaurant.”

“By my daughter.”

Dawn stared Dana down.  “Was it your daughter?”

Dana balked.  “No!”

“Are you sure?”  Dawn raised an eyebrow but Dana said nothing.  She took a breath, turning back to Maggie.  “I’d like to see this box.  The rest of you get back to work.”

“I think I’d like to see it too,” said Charlie.

“And me,” Dana asserted.

Sydney cut in.  “No, Dana.  We need you on line.”  She motioned for the cook to get back to her station.  “I’m sure you’ll be informed if we find that Molly’s been stealing.”

As expected, Dana began to protest, but Charlie cleared his throat pointedly, silencing the cook.  Finally, she went back to her work.

Maggie led Zed’s two co-owners to the storage room where she relocated the box in question.  She lifted the two bottles she had left out earlier.  “A lot of the bottles were empty, but these were in there too.  This whisky is almost full.”  She handed the bottles to Dawn before pulling out the box so they could all examine it.

"Charlie, aren't these...." Dawn trailed off.

"From our housewarming party."  Charlie looked up at Dawn.  "Yeah."  

The discomfort in the room rose immensely.  Charlie and Dawn had been married once, back in the day.  The young couple had created Zed together.  The restaurant had been instantly successful, but the couple was not.  Charlie took the whisky from Dawn's hand and opened it, taking a swig as he turned back for the door.  "Well," he called, "at least they're not stolen."

Maggie felt embarrassment rising to her face.

“Just put them in my office,” Dawn said before scurrying out of the room herself.

As soon as Maggie emerged carrying the box, Dana descended on her.

“Don’t you dare do that again.”

“Dana,”  Maggie closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Look, I’m sorry for accusing your daughter, but I was just doing my job! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Like hell you didn’t.”  Dana stepped into her space, pointing a finger at her so close that she nearly jabbed Maggie’s nose.  “Stay away from my daughter, or I'll make sure you'll wish you had.”

Maggie said nothing, her mouth silently blubbering in shock.  With luck, Dana decided her threat was enough and returned to her station, fuming the entire way.  Maggie made eye-contact with Sydney who was staring at her with her mouth hanging open.  Maggie half-shrugged at her, shaking her head, before leaving to place the box of housewarming alcohol on Dawn’s office floor.

 

* * *

 

“Syd.”

The nickname pulled Sydney out of her conversation with Alex immediately.  Maggie had never called her that before.  No one did, except maybe her little sister, Bekah.  She had examined Maggie then, wondering how long she had been “Syd” in the sous chef’s mind before it finally came out of her mouth.  The thought set off a warm thudding in her chest.  

Then the kitchen had exploded, catching even Dawn's attention.  Someone was stashing bottles of booze in the back room and Maggie had been the unfortunate to discover it.  She'd watched in awe as Dana railed on her apprentice, unable to step in until much later.  Maggie had left with Charlie and Dawn, only for the three of them to reappear one by one.  

Hours later, Maggie was still visibly stressed.  Sydney examined her with concern, wondering how she could possibly help.  As Sydney fetched her clipboard to finish her closing tasks, the idea came to her.  She stepped in front of the plating counter where Maggie was bent over several dishes.  Sydney watched her make a perfect arrangement of sauces across a plate.  As Maggie took one final sweep around the edge of the plate with the towel hanging from her waist, Sydney spoke up.  "Come do counts with me?"

The apprentice chef looked up at her, still bent at the waist and a little surprised.  Without breaking eye contact, she took a finished dish from the back line's inspection-ready counter and placed it in front of herself.  "I'm not done."  It was almost a question.

Sydney frowned, tilting her head at Maggie.  Was she saying no, or was she just being her normal, diligent self?  As the sous chef smiled softly at Sydney, she decided it was the latter.  "Charlie," she called out.  He was busy removing giant, full bags of trash from the line's bins.  "Maggie's going to help me with counts tonight, can you take over for her?"

"Sure."

Sydney nodded at Maggie.  “I’ll be in the freezer.”  With that she turned, stopping at the electrical panel on the wall to shut off the walk-in cooler and freezer before heading inside.

She had nearly finished counting the freezer stock when she heard the outer door of the fridge open and shut.  Not long later Maggie’s head poked into the freezer.

“Are you in here?”

“Yep, almost done.”  Sydney handed Maggie the clipboard; she knew the stock sheets by heart.  “Want to start in there?”

Maggie disappeared again.  Sydney finished in the freezer with her teeth chattering, blowing into her hands, and only touching the finger-numbing boxes when she absolutely had to.  Most people wore a coat when spending extended time in the freezer, but Sydney was a hair too impatient for that.  She was grateful when the final case had been counted and she could retreat into the fridge.

Sydney called out her numbers to Maggie, repeating them twice before they had all been copied down.  The two of them then began counting the meats one by one, taking long plastic food boxes of cuts into the main kitchen for weighing.  Maggie was quieter than usual, only speaking to list off numbers and give Sydney the occasional “Okay.”  Sydney wondered if the night’s events had taken a greater toll on Maggie than she’d originally thought.

Her thoughts were confirmed as Maggie began to talk once she and Sydney were back in the walk-in fridge.

“We need more tomatoes,” Maggie announced, her back still turned.

 _I know_.  Sydney nodded.  “I’m going in the morning.”

“And red wine.”  

Maggie’s tone carried an uncharacteristic bitterness, causing Sydney to glance over from the cases of eggs she'd been counting (she'd been doing a rather subpar job anyway).  Sydney looked across at her.  Maggie was slumped with her back against one of the shelving units.

“What’s up?” she asked.

Maggie tossed a look at her, surprised her emotions had been read so well.  “I feel stupid.”

“Why?”

Maggie shook her head.  “I should have just gone straight to Dawn or Charlie today with the whole alcohol thing, instead of getting you and Dana involved.”  

Sydney turned, copying Maggie's slouch against the shelves.   “I thought you handled it pretty well, actually.”

Maggie huffed at the ceiling.

“Are you okay?”  The chef looked at her, concerned.

Maggie sighed.  “Yeah, I’m okay.  Been a bit of a rough night.”

Sydney nodded, understanding.  Maggie readjusted her cap and rubbed her eyes with one hand before going back to her work.  Sydney could see the tension in her shoulders as she sorted through the remaining fruits.

Sydney wanted to say something comforting.  She wanted to let Maggie know that she was there, that Maggie could talk to her.  But then again, there were a lot of things Sydney wanted when it came to Maggie:  things she shouldn't want, things she couldn't have.

 _But, maybe_ \--

Sydney straightened, holding her arms out wide.  “Come here.”

Maggie turned immediately.  “What?”  She looked Sydney up and down, seeing Sydney’s stance and clearly made uncomfortable by it.  “Why?”

Sydney tried to reassure herself that _I’m not doing anything wrong_ as she stepped forward into Maggie’s space.  “You said you had a bad day.”  A deep breath.  Sydney’s heart was speeding up, and she tried to ignore it.  "You look like you could use a...a hug."   _Just a hug_.  She put her arms around Maggie’s tense shoulders.

She’d been close to Maggie many times in the kitchen, but she hadn’t been close to Maggie like _this_ for weeks.  Not since they'd kissed.  Her heart pounded out rhythms she was sure Maggie would hear as Sydney let her body melt against her.

“Oh...kay,” Maggie replied, curt and confused.  Sydney felt Maggie’s hands come up against her back, felt them rub up and down once.

Maggie was...stiff?  It wasn't how this was supposed to go, not how she reacted last time.  The hopes Sydney had let rise came crashing down.   _Why is she so stiff?_  “Why are you so stiff??”

“Oh my god.”  It was annoyance, and Sydney pulled away immediately.  "Apparently, I’m a bad hugger.”

They were looking at each other now, and Sydney panicked, full of regret.  “You don’t think I’m going to kiss you again, do you?”

She saw a flash of unnerve across Maggie’s face at her question.   "Are you?" Maggie asked in reply.

Sydney didn't know how to answer that.  She fought to keep her eyes locked on Maggie's, despite the memories flooding her mind of the softness of Maggie's lips, the shape of her hand against Sydney's cheek.  As Sydney hesitated, Maggie’s eyes slipped from hers down to her mouth.

 _I can’t do this._  “I’m going to go count the reach-ins.”

Sydney left, putting as much space as possible between herself and her feelings for Maggie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did u know that “have kittens” is apparently an acceptable synonym for “panic” wtf


	6. Here's My Number So Kale Me, Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In which Maggie has Feelings_ ™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so y’all know i made ~~my~~ maggie’s souffles today for the fam and they were real tasty the kids loved em  
>   
>  sorry this took so long it was difficult  
>   
> also:
> 
>   * I have started school again
> 

> 
> which means that i am:
> 
>   * extremely busy
> 

> 
> and that i might not:
> 
>   * write shit
> 


Maggie’s heart was aflutter.  She’d gotten a call from Gavin that morning which was...not her favorite thing, but she was dealing with it.  Things had been good with Gav when they were dating.  They’d been best friends, and Maggie had loved him.  She still did, in a muted sort of way.  So when he’d called her, upset, wanting to see her, she had almost conceded.  

But she had other things to think about now.  Like Sydney.  Gavin was never like Sydney, who was so passionate in the kitchen, in her religion, in life.  Maggie still had no idea how she felt about her.  She’d been almost happy about whatever had been developing between them until Sydney up and got engaged in order to escape it.  Or maybe there had never been feelings between them at all.  Maybe Sydney had told her the truth; maybe it was nothing.

But Sydney kept...touching Maggie.  She’d hugged Maggie last night under the guise of trying to comfort her.  What did that even mean?  Syd had again played it off as something trivial, and maybe, to her, it was.  But it wasn’t nothing to Maggie.  Maybe Sydney had gotten over her, but Maggie had been thrown for one hell of a loop.

“Hey, Mags.”

“Zach?  You’re here early.”

Zach smiled lightly as he came around to the outside of the bar and leaned back against the counter.  Maggie stopped to meet him on her way to the kitchen.  Maggie swung her purse off her shoulder and onto the bar, unzipping her jacket.

“Yeah,” Zach began, “I usually have my boys in the early afternoons, but they left on vacation last night with their mother.”

“Oh?  Where did they go?”

Zach looked at Maggie with a frown.  “My ex-wife’s _rich new fiance_ took them all to Disneyland.”

“Ah,” she scrunched her face in empathy.  “I’m sorry.”

Zach drummed his long fingers against the counter for a moment before lightening.  “That’s okay,” he said.  “I get to eat twice as much pizza this way.”

Maggie giggled.  “Don’t tell me you work at one of the most prestigious French restaurants in Toronto and you _still_ choose to order pizza delivery.”

“Okay,” he replied, a spark in his eyes, “consider yourself _not_ told.”

“Despicable.”  She shook her head at him, still chuckling.

“I’m a bachelor, Mags.  It’s what we do.”

“Truly unforgivable.”

Zach turned towards her, leaning the upper half of his body in Maggie’s direction as he stepped away.  “You’re welcome to come over and cook dinner for me anytime.  To show me,”  he raised an eyebrow at her, “the _error of my ways_.”  And with that, his long legs swept him away, disappearing him into Dawn's office.

 _...Wait_.  

Maggie stood there at the bar, her mouth partially hanging open.  Was he...flirting?  Better yet, had he just casually suggested a somewhat risqué date?  Maggie stood there a moment longer, biting her lip, before heading to the back.  She smiled to herself as she wandered into the kitchen.  A date with Zach?  

_I could do that._

“What’s so funny, Lin?”  Jimmy walked past her with a basket of red onions under his arm. “You look like you just walked out of a comedy club.”

Maggie let her smile fade for a millisecond before plastering a fresh one on.  “Oh, you know,” she said, swirling a piece of hair around her finger.  She tilted her head at him.  “Just enjoying being chased by various handsome men.  Speaking of, have you seen any?”

As she’d hoped, Jimmy’s happy features faltered.  He checked his watch awkwardly around the onions.  “It’s two o’clock! Is Goran here already?”

“No, he isn’t.”  Maggie fought down a giggle.  Messing with Jimmy’s head was serious business.  She raised her eyebrows at him, enjoying the expression on his face as he thought rigorously.  She wasn’t done with him yet, though. “Joel’s a good idea though, thank you.”  With that, Maggie left Jimmy blubbering to visit her locker and dress for the evening.

Sydney was in the office, clicking her tongue at the numbers on the computer screen.

“Something wrong?” Maggie asked her.

The chefs eyes were still locked on her reports.  “You mean, besides the fact that I have to work on Shabbat and I’ve already missed a prayer?”  She shook her head with a large sigh.  “Just...some dishes aren’t selling as well as I would like.  I’m going to have to take them off next week’s menu, I think.  Your fig and goat cheese is doing well.  Care if I keep it on another week?”

Maggie slipped her thin jacket off her shoulders and traded it for her uniform.  “It’s been two weeks already, are you sure?”  She was proud of her creations, of course, but they’d had a soufflé on the menu for over a month.  Not to mention soufflés were difficult, and often required chefs to walk them out to guests themselves so they could be eaten before they deflated.

Syd shrugged.  “People really like it.  Dawn told me a couple of the regulars have asked if soufflés are going to be a permanent menu item.”  She turned then, checking Maggie’s reaction.  “You’ve done a good job.”

“Thanks.”

Sydney stood, sending the office chair spinning.  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take my second meal.”

“Do you, uh,” Maggie began, effectually stopping Sydney on her way out the door, “want company?”

The chef looked her up and down with a glare.  “No.”

Instead, Sydney put her on stock duty that afternoon, which meant a lot of chopping for Maggie.  She was soon up in arms with beef bone, chicken carcass, and slightly less-than-prime vegetables.  Maggie worked as quickly as she could, determined not to be the final chef stuck in prep work when the first guests arrived.

It was during her prep of her mirepoix that Jimmy started to glancing over at her.  

_Oh, boy, here we go._

She liked Jimmy.  He was calm, funny, attractive, and definitely someone she’d like to sleep with at least once.  Maggie had started flirting with him almost immediately after she started working at Zed, though he was more of a curiosity to her than anything else.  Maggie had always been a little loose when it came to her sleeping partners, and she took pride in her ability to flirt nearly any man into bed with her (including Joel during her first week of the job––she was proud of that one).  Jimmy was no exception.  She knew what she was doing, and she was succeeding at it.

He finally caved half an hour later.  “Maggie,” Jimmy called lightly, clearing his throat with a slight smile.  He took one of his pans off the heat and came closer, bracing himself against the counter with one arm.   _God, his eyes._  He watched her carefully as she tied up an array of bouquet garni.  “As long as you’re, uh...being _chased_ , may I add myself to the list?”

“Still thinking about that, huh?” Maggie couldn’t stop a broad grin from breaking her features.  She considered him a moment, playfully, just long enough for him to begin to squirm.  “You may.”

Jimmy straightened, pleased with himself. “Care to go for a drink tonight after close?”

She stuck out her bottom lip, tilting her head back and forth.  “I might.”

\---

Twenty-seven containers of beef, chicken, and vegetable stock later, Maggie was finally released from her prep responsibilities.  She found herself shadowing Charlie again that night, which meant another five hours of being crammed in the ever-so-slightly-too-small head station with him and Sydney.  It went the same way it had a few weeks ago, but somehow tonight was not the same at _all_.

It was...well, it wasn’t a _complete_ disaster.

“Sorry, Syd,” Maggie said for the upteenth time.  

Sydney just smiled faintly and shook her head.  “Stop apologizing.  We work in a kitchen.”

“That’s not what you said last time.”

Sydney stopped her work briefly to look Maggie in the eyes.  “Let’s pretend what I said last time never happened.”

Maggie couldn’t help but blush a little, inwardly.  She could handle that.  “Okay.”

Sydney thanked her with a small _baruch hashem_ , and Maggie beamed.  Her stomach fluttered as Syd smiled back at her.

_Oh._

She turned back to her stove, butterflies spreading from her stomach into her chest and shivering their way through her limbs.  Maggie took a steadying breath and rocked back solidly on her heels in attempt to pull herself out of Sydneyland.  This was...unexpected.  Nearly as unexpected has Sydney’s kiss had been almost two months ago.  Maggie had been flirting with Zach and Jimmy all day.  But this?  She had no idea what to do about it.

She took three tickets as they came in and smirked at the challenge it would provide in order to get them all finished at the same time.  She set to work.  In one pan, pearl onions, eggplant, mushrooms, and white wine for a barley risotto.  In another, thin strips of bass fillet with fennel and shallots for paupiettes.  And finally, into the oven went two portions of fig and goat cheese souffle batter.  

“Can I get into your cooler, Maggie?” Sydney called from behind her.  

Maggie stopped her work and turned, nodding, surprised to find that the chef was right behind her.  She was close enough that Maggie grazed against her as she moved to get out of the way.  This was fine, except that it was just enough to brush Sydney’s scent into the air, sending Maggie reeling all over again.  

Sydney smelled _good._

“Thanks,” Sydney muttered as she stood back to her full height and returned to plating.

The remainder of the night quickly turned into a trip for Maggie’s feelings, featuring the executive chef herself.  A nudge here, a brush there.  Was Sydney doing it on purpose, or was she?  Maggie decided she didn’t care.

As closing came around, Jimmy appeared in front of the plating counter.

“So, Maggie, you still good for drinks tonight?”

Maggie whipped her head around to look at him, but more importantly, to catch Sydney’s reaction.  Her back was turned to Maggie, head ducked in concentration, but her hands weren’t moving.  Maggie thought she could see Sydney’s jaw clenching.

And here was the guilt.  She’d known Jimmy would come check in with her like this.  She known the odds of that check-in being made in front of Sydney.  Why hadn’t she thought this through?  Why had she even accepted Jimmy’s invitation?

“Uh….”  Maggie paused.  She needed to fix this somehow.  “You know, I remembered I’m actually on shift for lunch tomorrow.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.  I mean, I would go if I didn’t have to be up early.”

By this point, Jimmy had also caught on to Sydney, who was still bent over, her hands gripping the counter.  He looked between the two of them.  Maggie silently cursed his perceptiveness.

“Another time then?” Jimmy asked with a smile.

 _Yes, just not...now._ “Definitely.”

“Charlie, I’m going to start counts.”  Sydney cut across their conversation, calling to Charlie and leaving before he had a chance to respond.

Jimmy returned to his station.  Maggie just wished it was enough to bring Sydney back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **a dumb diagram of the kitchen**  
>  sorry about my drawing/handwriting im an engineer not an artist
> 
> **Chapter 6 glossary of (usually) culinary terms:**
> 
> _Mirepoix_ |  Literally means onions, carrots, and celery, but can include a variety of veggies. Is also the name of a certain type of cut, which is intentionally large enough for the vegetables to be able to withstand being cooked for a long amount of time, at least 1 cm.  
> ---|---  
> |   
> _Bouquet garni_ |  a bundle of, usually, a sprig of thyme, parsley, bay. It often includes other ingredients as well, commonly peppercorns, garlic, cloves, basil, sage, etc, and is often encased in a celery or leek stalk. Herbs/leek/celery are tied with a string to keep them together.  
> |   
> _Paupiettes_ |  A dish consisting of thin strips of meat or fish with a stuffing in the center, usually veggies. Sometimes other meats are in the stuffing as well, but that wouldn’t be kosher now would it. I’m not providing a recipe for this because i’ve never made them and i don’t feel like trying them out just to make a recipe but if you’re terribly offended i can probably give it a shot  
> |   
> _Risotto_ |  A dish, usually made with rice (in this chapter, barley), cooked in a broth/sauce until creamy.  
> |   
> _Shabbat_ |  i forgot to mention this the first time i used it cuz i think it’s pretty well understood without having to define it, but shabbat is a jewish holy day that occurs once a week from sunset friday until the first 3 stars appear saturday night. It has a lot of rituals associated with it, but the most commonly known one is that Jews are to obstain from any kind of work on this day, including, you know, like...cooking. And working. And all that stuff. Sorry syd i made u work on a saturday bc...i did.  
>   
> Goat cheese/fig souffle  
>  Hello it is 3 am and i am a tire  
>  Ok so remember how to make souffle batter from last time  
>  Great so  
>  Do that w/o the spinach but with fig ok just put ur finely chopped figs in a pan w some water and then ur gonna cook them down mayb with a lil onion that would be tasty butter is good to go in there too this is french cooking the goal is to put butter in everything kind of  
>  Then once they cook down add ur milk/cream whatever, and if u got fresh sage add that now, maybe some clove and/or nutmeg, bring to boil, reduce a lil u know how it goes then u just continue as normal u kno make that souffle damn gon taste kinda like figgy puddin aint it  
>  Except surprise bitch u gonna make this cute goat cheese filling ok it goes like:  
>  Brie, creme fraiche(optional), honey, thyme, rosemary, some pep, some shallots r good too but only if u didn’t use onions w/the figs  
>  Ok so u kinda just whip all that together keep it cold like chill it after u whip u feel  
>  Then when ur ready to cook, whip ur egg whites and add them to ur batter and then fill the ramekin(s) part way like halfway, but in a dollop of ur filling, then more batter on top  
>  Then u cook  
>  Then when they come out u wanna eat that shit real fast  
>  Serve it with like a nice arugula salad that would b cute  
>  Sorry this is like...not an accessible recipe to ppl who don’t already know how to cook and make a souffle but i know yall don’t cook this shit for urselves anyway so i’m not really worried BUT i will make a real recipe if someone wants it just give a holler  
> 
> 
> **Barley and mushroom risotto**  
>  Here’s the ingredients, I’ll get u the actual recipe prob tomorrow:  
>  Mizithra cheese  
>  Barley  
>  Porccini and shitake Mushrooms  
>  Pearl Onions  
>  Chicken stock (veggie stock works nicely too)  
>  Thyme  
>  sage  
>  White wine or brandy  
>  Eggplant  
>  Pine nuts  
>  Garlic  
>  ginger  
>  Butter  
>  Parsley to garnish


	7. Interlude I:  "Not a Date"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _this is the most fluffy ass thing i have ever written in my entire life_  
>  also its more of a regular, plot progressing chapter than an interlude but i'm going to call it an interlude because fuck consistency thats why

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you were wondering, according to my working outline, there will actually be _at least_ 27 chapters of this fic.
> 
> nOw yo u knOw

If one were to ask an employee for the best time to pay a visit to Zed, they would be told Sunday, around noon.  On Sundays––and Sundays only––Zed opened at 11:30 in the morning and closed no later than 3:30 in the afternoon.  No dinner, just lunch.  It ran its own menu, separate from the rest of the week, and was secretly the best culinary experience Zed had to offer, given one was willing to wait for it.

On regular nights, Zed kept a minimum staff of twenty at all times. On Sundays, there were seven:  three cooks, two servers, one dishwasher, and Shahir.  Sydney always worked, Charlie and Maggie traded off, and the line cooks rotated.  Sydney wrote the menu in the morning, and between 10:00 and 10:30am the staff learned it, with just an hour to prep before the guests arrived.  It was, without a doubt, the most challenging shift an employee could possibly work.

And Maggie loved it.

At nine-something in the morning on Sunday that week, Maggie walked through Zed’s front door.  She immediately spotted Sydney, buried in her notes.  Writing the day’s menu, no doubt.  Maggie smiled to herself with a single thought:   _opportunity_.  Her flirting had been going so well the past few days, why not put it to the test?

With a breath and a square of her shoulders, she crossed the room.

_Dear god, let me be smooth._

 

* * *

 

Sydney sat at the bar with her recipe notebook, writing furiously.  Her pen scribbled across the page as she tried to empty her mind onto its lines.  She adjusted her glasses higher up her nose as she wrote, holding them there with one hand.  

A movement pulled her from her thoughts.  Maggie had taken the stool next to her and was now leaning in to try and read Sydney’s writing.  Sydney made eye contact with her briefly.

“Chef,” Sydney greeted.

“Chef,” Maggie chimed equally in response. She quirked an eyebrow, pushing her lips into a quick pout.  

Sydney returned to her recipes, mildly amused.  After a few moments, Maggie spoke up again. “So, I was thinking,” she began, swirling her fingertips absentmindedly against the countertop. “There’s this breakfast place a few blocks over.  Madamé LaRue’s?  Have you heard of it?”

Syd paused her writing to look over at her.  Maggie hadn’t yet put on her chef tunic, but had removed her jacket and was now wearing a simple grey sleeveless t-shirt, leaving her olive-toned shoulders exposed.  Sydney had to remind herself not to look.

“Ah, no. I haven’t.”

There was that eyebrow again. “It’s very tasty.”  Maggie paused, surveying her with a mischievous look in her eyes. Sydney squirmed under her gaze a moment before defaulting back to writing, completely unable to handle the undertones of what her apprentice was saying.  “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to go together after we finish at the markets tomorrow.”

 _Oh, boy._  Sydney froze.  Extra time with Maggie was not a good idea.  How could she get out of this?  She had to…. Right? _Right._  “I can’t.”   _Liar._  “I–I’ve got this thing with Herschel.”

“At six in the morning?

 _No._ “Yes.”  She chanced a look at Maggie and–– _shoulders._  Bad decision.   _Fuck_.  

 _No, not fuck._ She shot her thoughts at G-d.   _I’m sorry, I take it back._  As if _sorry_ would do anything.  She was fine a second ago.  Why now?

Well, okay, she knew why _now_.  She knew _exactly_ why she was suddenly losing all cool _right now_.

 _Why is she_ looking _at me like that??_  

_Probably because you’re not saying anything you dumbass._

_...Don’t say dumbass._

 

* * *

 

Maggie watched Sydney fall apart with great amusement.  And pride.  Definitely a lot of pride.  Boys were easy, but Sydney?  Sydney was….

...Giving her butterflies.  Which wasn’t fair.  At all. The rest of her dating targets were significantly _less engaged_.  

Maggie finally interrupted Sydney's thoughts once the chef raised a anxious hand to her own temple.  One of them needed to stay grounded.  “So...I’m going to go guess-prep for lunch.  But, uh...you just think about breakfast tomorrow.  Okay?  It could be fun.”

 

* * *

 

“I see you’re about an hour late for your date with Herschel.  Is that a Jewish thing?”

“No.”

“So we’re going?”

She liked to think that she fought this decision more than she actually did.  Regardless, it was nearing seven in the morning, and there was Maggie, still in her car, now happily calling out directions to Madamé LaRue’s like it wasn’t causing Sydney significant amounts of stress.  Which it definitely, _definitely_ was.

It wasn’t like...like a date, though, right?  They were coworkers.  Colleagues.  She was Maggie’s boss, for goodness’ sake.  It wasn’t a date.  Of course not.  Sydney was engaged to Herschel, not on a date with her subordinate.  This was normal.  Everything was normal.  The incessant pounding in her chest?  Normal.

 _I am_ not _going to use a swear word to describe this_.

By the time they arrived at Madamé LaRue’s, there was already a short line out the door.

“Whoa.”

“I told you, this place is really good.”

“Yeah, but a _line_?  We never have a line!  Not even on Sundays!”

“ _Thank god_ we do not have a line on Sundays.”

“Touché.”  Sydney accompanied this with a nod.

Finding parking was an adventure, but they eventually nabbed a spot down the road.  On their walk back to Madamé LaRue’s, Maggie started a conversation that Sydney was not at all prepared for.

“What’s your favorite thing about Herschel?  By the way, you’re not blowing him off right now, right?”  Maggie was waving her hands around in the air. “Because I’m flattered, but––”

“I’m not blowing him off.  I would never do that.”

Maggie nodded.  “Good.  So?”

“So, what?” Sydney asked, knowing exactly what Maggie was getting at and wanting to put it off as long as possible.

The apprentice shook her head in a _duh_ sort of way.  “What do you like about Herschel?”

“Oh, that.”  She said the first thing that came to mind.  “He’s nice.”

“Okay…” Maggie stepped into the que with Sydney behind her.

“I just mean that he’s a good man.”

“Uh huhhhh….” The second syllable was drawn out as Maggie craned her neck forward, clearly expecting more of a response.  When Sydney gave none, Maggie pulled a face.  “So, that’s it?”

Sydney was saved by one of the restaurant’s hosts, who came up to them with a pen an paper to take a name and party size.  To Sydney’s great surprise, the host perked up at hearing “two.”

“Oh, okay. Give me just a moment, I think we might be able to seat you now if you’re willing to sit at the bar?”  They quickly agreed, and the host was back less than a full minute later, beckoning them to follow.

The inside of the restaurant was quaint and bustling.  Sydney could see why there was a line; there were few tables, with many guests sitting along a bar that extended almost the full length of the dining room.

As Syd took her seat, Maggie slid her windbreaker from her shoulders to hang it over the low back of her seat and it occurred to Sydney that she hadn’t seen Maggie in normal clothes since she hired her.

“You look nice.”  The words tumbled out of Sydney’s mouth before she could stop them.

Maggie snorted.  “Are you kidding me? I’ve had this shirt since college.”

Sydney shrugged at this.  “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks.”

Thankfully for Sydney, Maggie didn’t bring up Herschel again.  She did, however, seem to enjoy getting into Sydney’s personal space whenever possible.  Reaching, leaning, doing seemingly anything to get closer her, Maggie’s excuses were lame, but Sydney enjoyed them thoroughly:

“I’d recommend these, right...here.”

“Or this one.  And this.  I don’t know, it’s all good.”

“Are you cold?”

“Oooh, can I try that?”

“Here, try some of mine.”

“Are you sure you’re not cold?”

And Sydney’s personal favorite, “How did you get cream on your _forehead_?”  

Sydney was a very neat eater; there was never cream on her forehead.  But then again, she was never cold, never gave Maggie permission to eat her food, and she never asked for recommendations, either.  Regardless, every time Maggie got close, Sydney got a warm buzzing in her chest that lingered until Maggie came near again.  By the time she finished her final bite, Maggie’s arm was around the back of her chair, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Finally, as they paid and left, Sydney made a mental note to eat with Maggie more often.  Or, she got halfway through that note before her thoughts were obliterated by Maggie’s interruption.

“So this was a pretty good date, huh?”

Sydney flipped around, horrified.  It must have shown on her face because Maggie immediately jumped back in to correct herself.

“Whoa, Syd.  I’m kidding.  This wasn’t a date.”

She nodded, willing herself to calm down.  “Okay.”  She turned then, pushing the door open and ignoring her ears when they thought they heard Maggie muttering something about “not a real date, anyway.”

They found their way back to Sydney’s car in silence with full bellies.  She drove Maggie home with record speed, at least for her.  She worried she should say something to Maggie, to let her know everything was fine, but the words never came.  Before she knew it, she was pulling up in front of Maggie’s building.

Maggie was most of the way out of the car when she turned to look at Sydney.  “I’d be fine with it, you know.”’

Sydney wasn’t sure she caught on.  “What?”

“If you ever asked me on a date.  I’d be fine with that.”

“Maggie––” _That can’t happen.  That can_ never _happen._

“I know.  You’re...occupied.  I’m just saying.”

Before she could respond, Maggie was already pulling away and shutting the door.

 


	8. Thyme Capsule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sydney makes a mistake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i attended Jewish services this week as research for this chapter. It was a really, really neat experience.
> 
> the next full-length chapter is almost done, sorry.  In my defense, it has about a 30 min reading time and is over 6,000 words long.  I am just SO busy.  Between school, my job, and my AI/GPU research i’m literally working over 70 hours a week right now. I have like ~2 hours a day to do other things unless I want to stay up really late.   So, this may be slow going.  Thanks for hanging in there with me.  As always, I appreciate and enjoy your kudos/comments/questions.

One more month.  Sydney could sing with excitement.  She’d had her bags packed for a week already.

A timer sounded nearby and Sydney was pulled from her thoughts.   _The challah._  Tovah tottered over from where she and Syndey had been filling dumplings for the kreplach.  Sydney squeaked as one-by-one, eight beautifully golden challah made their way out of the ovens.  “ _Look at that._ ”

Tovah grinned, poking a few errant pieces of gray hair back under her tichel.  “They are pretty, aren’t they?”

Sydney nodded emphatically, joining Tovah to help her place eight more loaves into the oven.

“I couldn’t care less what they look like,” Breina chimed from across the kitchen. “For me it’s that smell.  I could make a candle out of it and challah up my whole house.”

Rachel poked her head in from the hallway.  “Do you ladies need any help?  Nechama and I are willing!  Aren’t we, Nechama?”  Rachel reached behind the wall pulled her daughter over by the shoulder.  Nechama wasn’t thrilled.  “Nechama I’m sure your friend would love to help, too, don’t you think?”

Nechama scowled and Sydney swallowed a giggle.  Nechama was eighteen, a whole year older that Sydney, and she was _cool_. Much too cool to be cooking for the breaking of Tish’a B’Av.  

“Of course!  Come in!  You girls can help Sydney with the dumplings. And what’s your name, dear?”  Tovah gestured to a very blonde, very _not Jewish_ girl who was following closely behind Nechama, looking apprehensive.

“I’m Jessica.”

“She’s from camp,” Nechama cut in, head still ducked, but puting a protective arm around her friend.

“Oh,”  Tovah chirped, turning again to Jessica.  “Are you Jewish?”

Nechama spoke for her.  “Next camp over.  Not ours.”  She led Jessica over to where Sydney was standing.  “Hey, Syd.”

“Hey.”  Sydney couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. Still, she felt a small pang of jealousy.  Summer camp was every Jewish kid’s favorite part of the year.  But when Sydney had graduated high school early and been accepted into cooking school overseas, she skipped her last year of camp in favor of getting ahead on her cooking.

“So how do you make these things anyway?”  Nechama asked bluntly.

Nechama’s disdain for being forced to cook only made Sydney smile wider.  She couldn’t explain it.  Nechama just made her...happy. 

Sydney had tested into Nechama’s grade at fourteen and had done everything in her power to get Nechama’s attention, to no avail.   Finally, during their senior year, Nechama had noticed and they’d become quick friends.  Sydney had never felt such a close connection before.  She was close to her mother, and close to her sister, but being close to Nechama was nothing like that.  

Nechama wasn’t like most girls.   _I’m gay_ , she’d told Sydney.  She hadn’t known how to feel for a long time after that.  She decided she didn’t like it.  It made her feel bad about holding Nechama’s hand.  And Sydney always, _always_ wanted to hold her hand.

“You just put some on top––like this...and then you pinch it closed and it makes a triangle!  Like this!  See?”

\---

They were sitting so close.

Nechama and Jessica were seated across the hall from Sydney.  She had a perfect view of the way they’d taken their seats, Nechama scooting her chair so close to Jessica’s that they banged together.  And then there was the _touching_.  First it was just their knees, underneath the table.  Then they were holding hands.

 _Nechama likes her._ Sydney watched in disbelief as Nechama fed Jessica a bite of kugel off her own fork.   _She_ likes her _likes her._  Sydney felt her stomach drop, jealousy rising.  How had she missed it in the kitchen?

This wasn’t...this wasn’t fair.  Sydney was the one who was supposed to hold Nechama’s hand like that.  But along came Jessica––beautiful, blonde, _no glasses_ Jessica, and in a few short weeks, Sydney had been completely forgotten.

Nechama and Jessica rose from their table without their plates, giggling and bumping against each other.

“Syd, are you listening?”

“No.” Bekah glared at her, but Sydney didn’t care. She was too consumed by Nechama and Jessica as they left into the hallway, laughing.  “I’m going to check if Tovah needs my help in the kitchen.  I’ll be right back.”

Sydney made it to the hallway just in time to see a snickering Nechama pulling an even giddier Jessica into the women’s bathroom.  Sydney hesitated, instantly regretting her decision to follow the girls.  Soon curiosity had the best of her though, and she crept closer, heart beating through her chest.  She came to a halt outside the bathroom door.  As she raised a shaky hand to push it open, the giggling stopped.

She held an already strangled breath, inches from the door.  Had they heard her?  No, they couldn’t have, not with all their...noises.  They couldn’t know she was there.  Sydney let her hand fall silently against the painted metal of the door and forced herself to calm down.   _I’m just going to the bathroom._ Any second now, she would give the door a push and step inside.  It wasn’t a big deal.  It was just the bathroom.   _Everyone goes to the bathroom._  Surely, Nechama and Jessica wouldn’t think anything of her going in there, whatever they were doing.  Maybe they were just peeing, that’s why it went quiet.  Nothing to see in there, really.  Come to think of it, she probably didn’t even need to have a look.  

Except, she did.  She did need to have a look.  A new giggle escaped from inside the restroom and–– _that’s it._  Sydney took a breath, and she pushed.

What happened next, happened very fast.  

First, she caught a flash of Nechama with her hands in Jessica’s hair, and Jessica with her hands up the front of Nechama’s shirt, their mouths jammed together.  The sight was foreign, so completely foreign to Sydney that she let out a strangled cry and forgot to get out of the way of the door as it swung back at her, squishing her between the heavy metal and the wall.  And then there was Nechama’s face.  It must have been even whiter than Sydney’s.  Jessica giggled when Nechama pushed her away.

And then everything started to boil.  White hot rage rose from the pit of Sydney’s stomach, flushing her cheeks and shaping her fists into tightly wound balls.  When she spoke, it came out as a whisper, a hiss.  “ _Nechama_.”

Nechama swallowed then, and Sydney saw it.  The look.  It matched the feelings she’d felt walking into a girls’ locker room for the first time at fourteen––or rather, it matched what she’d felt like the Shabbat after.  

She knew what that look meant, but it didn’t matter.  Sydney yanked herself––painfully––from the door’s grasp, hearing Nechama curse as it banged shut between them.  She took off down the hall, not sure where to run, not sure why it _hurt_ so much.

_Tovah will know._

She picked up her pace until she reached the kitchen, stopping immediately in the doorway.  Tovah wasn’t alone.

“Hello, Sydney,” Rachel called, smiling.  As she took closer note of Sydney’s face, she stopped.  “Is something wrong?”

Sydney couldn’t hold it in.  “Nechama’s a lesbian,” she blurted, feeling the blood draining from her face.

Rachel and Tovah stood staring at her.  Finally, Tovah spoke up.  “Are you sure, dear?”

“Yes.”  Why did she feel so small?  “I saw her.  And Jessica.  In the bathroom.  They were––they were….”   She swallowed, bringing her arms tightly around herself.  Her eyes stung.  “I saw them kissing.”

It was silent for a long time after that.  Sydney couldn’t see Rachel’s face anymore.  She had turned, gripping the counter with one hand, the other covering her mouth.

“Why don’t you go back to the hall?  Finish up your dinner.”  Tovah said, coming close and placing a hand on Sydney’s shoulder.  She smiled at her.  “You did the right thing,” she told Sydney softly.

Had she?  Sydney felt empty as she rejoined Bekah at their table.  She didn’t eat, keeping close watch on the doors.  Silently, she waited for Rachel to come in with Nechama and Jessica, but they never returned.  

 

* * *

> **Esther Katz** Sept 3 (1 day ago)  
> 
> 
> Dear Sydney,
> 
> We are glad to hear that you made it to London safely and are settling in.  How are classes going? Ana said you met her sister at your new synagogue last week! What fun! I hope you are making many new friends....
> 
> Bekah is taking a new interest in cooking now that you are gone.  She wanted to make dinner yesterday... lets just say that she has a long way to go. ;) We miss your cooking. I miss your cooking...
> 
> Something very sad has happened at the Messner’s. Their daughter...I shouldn’t say her name...has cast a shadow on their home. They are going to sit shiva for her beginning tomorrow. Your father and I will pay our respects of course... Poor Rachel... I can’t imagine how she must feel to have had a daughter like that. Eli tore his coat on both sides and even on the back… Dad tells me that he refuses to speak to anyone but G-d. Who else to turn to but G-d during such a tragedy as this? Please keep the Messner’s in your prayers... They will need all of us to lift this curse...
> 
> As always…we love you... we miss you in our home...  
>  Mom  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Challah**_ is a jewish bread that is usually braided and is eaten for cerimonial things i.e. during shabbat.  It’s meant to represent the manna that god gave the Israelites in the desert (if you’re familiar with that). The dough has to be separated into portions due to ritual, which is why it’s traditionally a braided bread.  Bonus fact: I’ve finally figured out how to make a decent loaf after like 7 tries goodness gracious i am Not a Baker  
>   
>  _ **Kreplach**_ are chicken dumplings.  They are put into a brothy soup or fried (Jews have a thing for fried foods i have no idea why)  
>   
>  _ **Tish’a B’Av**_ is a Jewish fasting day in lieu of several disasters in Jewish history.  This chapter actually deviates a little (sorry) from Jewish tradition, as it is usually customary to abstain from eating meat until midday on the day after Tish’a B’Av is over.  
>   
> 


	9. A Steak Pun is a Rare Medium Well Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _i hope u like feelings_   
>    
>  ~~also i hate this chapter title but its what my outline says so we're going for it. ~~~~~~  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry. sorry sorry.

_I like girls._

It was something Sydney hid from everyone:  her friends, her family, herself. The only one who really knew was G-d.  But she couldn’t talk about her attractions with G-d. She couldn’t talk about it with anyone.

She wished she’d never kissed Maggie.  Things had been fine until then. Quiet.  Before Maggie, Sydney could ignore her feelings for women, almost completely.  She could convince herself that they didn’t exist. Even now, she wasn’t sure they were real.

The wedding was drawing ever closer.  Sydney felt almost suffocated by it at times.  The _shadchan_ and chosen her and Herschel for each other when they’d both burned through all their previous suitors.  Matchmaking was the Orthodox way––the logical way––to date, but it didn’t mean she liked it. Growing up she had imagined falling in love, always by chance.  Never had she allowed herself to imagine the person she would eventually fall in love with. That was too dangerous. And not in a million years would she have thought of someone like her fiancé.

Herschel held her hand now, in the car as he took her home.  He’d started the day after they’d gotten engaged. A woman who wasn’t Sydney would find it sweet.  But to her, his hands felt too big and too awkward for her tiny fingers. Herschel meant to be affectionate, but to Sydney it felt like a symbol of something she could never want.  She knew Herschel desired more from her. He had tried to kiss her a few times. She couldn’t allow herself to let it happen. He was one of her closest friends now, and Sydney trusted him, cared about him.  But that didn’t change the fact that she liked women.

She thought about telling him, sometimes.  Thought about letting it slip. She would pose it as a question.   _What do you think about Reform_ , she would ask, _what do you think about gay marriage_?  Herschel cared about other people; he was constantly empathetic.  Surely he would be kind about this, too. Maybe he would still consent to their marriage.

Sydney wanted to be married.  She did. She was twenty-seven, and she wanted nothing more than a family, kids.  But when she thought about starting that family with Herschel, something dark rose in the pit her stomach.  Sydney knew, theoretically, what would happen once she was married. She knew the traditions of her people, and there was no way around them.

Her mother had struggled to have children.  It was a blessing when Sydney was born, and when Bekah came along, it was nothing short of the hand of G-d.  Her parents had tried for years for each of them. Sydney couldn’t do that with Herschel, she knew, no matter how much she wanted a child.  It would break her.

“Hey, Syd.  You okay?” Maggie’s voice cut through her thoughts.  Sydney was stilled with her hand on a bag of apples, staring at them with blank eyes.  She looked over at Maggie, standing at the next vendor over, musing with the flowers. Maggie always came to the market with her now, something Sydney was grateful for, much more grateful than she could ever let on.  The markets had always been her time to think, in a way. With Maggie there it was an easy escape from the stresses of Sydney’s future.

“I’m fine, why?”

Maggie tilted her head a little and wandered back toward Sydney.  “You just seem…distant.”

Sydney kicked herself, inwardly.  She picked up bags of apples and handed them to the vendor.  “Sorry, it’s….” She stopped herself as she began to explain, unsure if she should talk to Maggie about what was on her mind.  The chef could be unpredictable. Sydney never knew if she would be teased or consoled for her insecurities. Then again, regardless of her jokes, Maggie was always supportive.  Sydney weighed her options against the weight in her chest, and decided to charge forward. “This whole wedding thing. There’s so much planning, and the expenses, and my _mother_.  She thought I’d never get married so now that I am, trust me––she’s ecstatic.  It’s a handful.”

Maggie joined her, beating Sydney to the chase as they both reached up to take the box of now paid-for bagged apples from the woman behind the stand.  She smiled pityingly at Sydney. “My mom’s the same way. She was heartbroken when Gavin and I broke up.” She placed the box on their trolley.

Sydney tried to keep her heart from faltering.  “Gavin?”

“My ex-boyfriend.  Have I not told you about him?”  Maggie returned to her full height with a sigh, pushing the cart off to their next destination.  Sydney fell into step next to her. “We were perfect for each other, according to everyone. Including him.”  She scrunched up her nose. “I guess we got along well, but...there was no passion, you know?”

“Passion’s not everything, Maggie.  There’s trust, mutual respect––”

“Yeah, we had all that,”  Maggie dismissed, waving a hand.  “Anyway, he wanted to get married, I didn’t.  So we broke up.”

Sydney halted on this.  She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be Maggie, to have that kind of freedom.  The ability to be in a healthy relationship with a man, one who wanted to be married––to _her_ , and to simply turn it down.  It pushed questions to the front of Sydney’s mind.  “Do you ever want to get married?”

Maggie shot her an amused look, pulling back on the cart to stop it.  “Yeah, eventually. But to the right person. Someone who’s p––”

“Passionate.  Right.” Sydney looked away.  She knew by now that her feelings for Maggie held some substance, but she wished they didn’t have to show up around every corner.  Couldn’t she just be happy being Maggie’s friend?

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sydney returned to Maggie’s gaze and nodded once more. “Yeah.”

They silently agreed to drop their conversation about marriage and finished their shopping.  It was like clockwork now, with the two of them. A ritual. There was a practiced method to the way they loaded the groceries onto the trolley and unloaded them so that they would fit just right into Sydney’s little beat-up car.  After dropping it all off at Zed, Sydney would let Maggie have control of the stereo as she took her home.

That day, as she always did, Maggie sang softly to the radio, her left hand tapping against the center console.  For the first time, Sydney envied her fiancé. She was jealous of the way Herschel could reach over at any moment and take up her hand.  Sydney had sacrificed a lot of things, she supposed, for her religion. She’d traded in freedoms for faith her entire life. But to give up who she was, to give up Maggie––it felt like the biggest sacrifice she had ever been asked to make.

_If you ever asked me on a date, I’d be fine with that._

There was one month until the wedding.  One month before she would force her feelings for Maggie, for women, to disappear.

Gingerly, Sydney reached out her hand.

 

* * *

 

“How would you feel about coming in early today?  I want to work on your plating techniques.”

“Something wrong with the way I plate things?”  Maggie sniggered.

“No, of course not.  But there’s always room for improvement.”

Maggie agreed, stepping out of the car.  “I’ll be there. On time, even.”

“I’ll believe _that_ when I see it.”

It was starting to make sense now, this whole Sydney thing.  The chef had taken her hand in the car and all at once, everything slid into place.  This wasn’t Sydney’s skewed perception of how friendship was supposed to go. She liked Maggie, the clock was ticking, and she was scared.  It was obvious now.

Maggie had never tried to think of herself as straight until a few months ago.  Not consciously, at least. She’d developed jitters for boys along with the rest of the girls in middle school and that was it.  There was no analyzing, no questioning, no second thoughts. So why now? If boy jitters meant she liked boys, didn’t Sydney jitters mean she liked Sydney?

_It’s more complicated than that._

Except it wasn’t.  She knew it wasn’t.  What was complicated was knowing that there was nothing she could do about it.

 

\---

 

Maggie made sure she was on time to her meeting with Sydney, nearly jogging the last block to the restaurant.  When she tried the door, however, it was locked.

“Great.”  Maggie cupped her hands together and peered through the window.  The kitchen lights were on. Sydney had to be in there. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and queued a new text.

> _12:31 pm_   
>  _The door is locked. Rude._

She waited a moment before Sydney’s response appeared.

> _**Sydney Katz** 12:32 pm_  
>  _You're so needy._

Maggie grinned.  A second later, she saw the flash of a kitchen door opening.  Sydney appeared, clutching her phone. She stood in front of the door a moment, examining it carefully and nodding.  She pulled up her phone and typed out a message.

> _**Sydney Katz** 12:34 pm_  
>  _You're right. It's locked. Looks like you're stuck out there._

“Oh my god.”  Maggie threw her hands up in mock desperation.  She watched Sydney giggle. Then, _click_.  “I can’t believe you,” she told the chef as she stepped inside.

“I can’t believe you’re actually on time.”  Syd pointed at the watch on Maggie’s wrist. “Do you even use that thing?”

“Yes,” Maggie replied, eyes narrowed as she waltzed through the kitchen door Sydney held open for her.  “I do.”

Sydney had been busy.  Across the plating counter were two cutting boards, a stack of plates, and small portions of various ingredients and sauces, all perfectly arranged.

“Suit up, chef,”  Sydney chimed as Maggie examined her handiwork.  “Let’s plate.”

Maggie did as told, slipping into the office and pulling on her uniform.  As she buttoned her coat, she swiveled round and caught Sydney watching her.  She didn’t mind (she may have felt good about it, even), but the chef turned a bright shade of red.

“Hi, Syd.”

“Hi.”

Sydney was still flushed while she explained the plating arrangement to Maggie.  Closer now, Maggie could see that the ingredients had all been duplicated. Syd had chosen common, inexpensive things:  rice, oranges, tomatoes, some lettuce.

“I thought we’d choose three or four things for each dish, and then see what the other comes up with.”

Maggie nodded.  “I like that.”

They quickly agreed on their first set of items.  The chef pulled her phone from her pocket and set a two minute timer.  “Ready?” she asked.

“Ready.”

Sydney stood close next to her, arm brushing against Maggie’s as they worked.  Maggie had by now become so comfortable with Sydney that the contact grounded her, dispelling any errant competition worries.

After the timer went off, they stepped back, eyes immediately falling on each other’s creations.

“Yours is better than mine,” Maggie observed.

“That’s kind of the point.”

Sydney gave her a few quick critiques before they went again.  Maggie was determined to create a prettier plate than the chef this time.  Halfway in, her competitive side got the best of her, and she nudged Sydney’s arm.  It was just enough to cause Sydney to lose her careful placement of a sliced beet, sending it flying.

“ _Hey_.  Now who’s rude?”  Maggie could see her frustration, but Syd smiled despite herself.  Maggie quirked an eyebrow.

“Hmm...still you.”

 

\---

 

Charlie called in sick that afternoon.  

“It’s fine, we’ve got Maggie,” Sydney had said, and Maggie swelled with pride.

About thirty minutes into diner, however, Alex came bursting into the back, looking frantic.

“We need Maggie.”

The sous chef looked up from where she was overseeing several bell peppers as they charred over open flames on her stove.  Sydney was already glaring at Alex.

“Sorry?”

Alex panted and Maggie was briefly concerned.  It seemed like Alex’s pregnant belly was growing by the day.  “We’re short two servers. Kristine already had the night off, and that bastard Manny was supposed to come in, but he just called in and quit.  We can’t get ahold of anyone else.”

“Okay, but why Maggie?”  Sydney protested. “We need her back here tonight.”

Maggie cut in.  “I waited tables before cooking school.”

Sydney looked at her, perplexed for a moment, before whipping back around to face Alex.  “No.”

“No?  I’m sorry?”

Both kitchen doors swung open this time, a steely-eyed, high-heeled Dawn click-clacking her way through.

“Change of plans tonight,” she snapped, coming to a halt in front of them all.  “Sydney, we need Maggie.”

Alex’s annoyance was palpable. “Yeah, I already told them.”

“And it’s not happening,” Syd called back, equally upset.  “I need my chefs!”

Dawn fixed her with a scowl. “You still have seven of you without Maggie.”

Sydney began to object again, but Maggie interrupted,  “It’s okay, chef, I’ll go.”

The chef spun around, waving her hands.  “Maggie, you’re one of our _best_ cooks, we need you back here.”

“Oh, c’mon, Syd, ” Maggie replied, pinching her peppers off the heat with a pair of tongs.  “You have Dana! And Jimmy!” She turned off her stove and stepped forward, removing her apron.  She caught the chef’s gaze, seeing the worry that was still present behind her thin spectacles. She reached out a hand for Syd’s shoulder.  “Sydney. It’s going to be _fine_.”

Sydney took a breath, bracing herself against the counter.  “Okay.”

“Great.” Alex deadpanned, taking Maggie by the arm. “You can borrow one of my extra shirts.”  She looked Maggie up and down. “Let’s just hope no one looks at the other half of your body.”  

Maggie looked down as well.  She was wearing flowy pants (at least they were black) and chef crocs––the classiest.  “Hey. Crocs are cool.”

“No,” Alex said firmly.  “They’re not.”

Soon Alex’s spare shirt had made it out of Alex’s locker and onto Maggie’s gangly body, the maternity cut drowning her thoroughly.  Before Maggie could even make any clown jokes, though, she was shepherded out to the floor and forced to relive the nightmare that had been her waitressing career.

 _God, I did_ not _miss this._  

Things had changed in her several years’ absence from server-hood.  For one thing, there was the computer system. Maggie had never used it before.  In her head, she knew it was supposed to make things easier, but it _so_ did not.

“Can’t I just write this shit down and worry about it later?”

Alex actually laughed in her face at that, _rude_.  “Uh. No.  I’m pretty sure Dawn wants us to get paid.”

_Ugh._

At least she knew the menu.

“Can I get it without the broccoli?”

 _Oh my god_ .  “Well, I suppose you _could_ , but the broccoli is really the p––”

“Great.  I’ll have it without the broccoli, then.”

“Oh...kay.”  She jotted a note on the ticket.   _Motherfucker wants it without broccoli.  -M_ (It was worth it just to hear Dev’s belly laugh and _Guys, look at this_ , from the back as she passed.)

 

\---

 

Waiting was hell, but she thought maybe Sydney had it worse.  On her trips to the kitchen, Maggie found Sydney scurrying around at lightning speed, blasting out orders. Maggie couldn’t help but be impressed.  Dawn and Charlie might have owned the restaurant, but it was Sydney who ran it.

At that speed, though, even Sydney made mistakes.  On one particular run, Maggie was loading a tray with plates when a wine flask tipped over onto Sydney’s stove.  A roaring cloud of flames erupted from where alcohol spilled onto the burners. Abandoning her tray, Maggie skipped into head station to grab a now thoroughly flambeed steak off the heat.  She continued to shut off several burners in attempt to calm the fire. Satisfied, she turned, barely registering Sydney, late to the chase and hurtling straight at her.

“Whoa, Syd, I got it,”  she said, wrapping an arm around Syd’s waist.  She steered their bodies in a circle to avoid collision.  They came to a stop, eyes locked on one another. “I got it.”

Sydney clutched at the loose material of Maggie’s shirt.  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

 _She’s close_ , Maggie thought, reddening and releasing Sydney at once.  She registered a familiar thumping in her chest. “I should get back to my tables.”

Maggie tossed her feelings away from her as she walked away.  Sydney was getting married. She had to get over this...whatever it was.

As she passed back into the dining room, a full tray now weighing down her shoulder, Alex stopped her with a grin.  “You’ve got new guests at table nine. One of them is even more pregnant than I am.”

Maggie skimmed her eyes across the restaurant and located the table Alex was talking about.  A young couple sat chatting and smiling. Alex was right, one of them was extremely pregnant.  She walked past them on her way to deliver food to another table. “I’ll be right with you,” she told them.

Sydney was, regretfully, still on Maggie’s mind when she got around to taking the couple’s order.

“We’ve heard everything here is kosher, is that right?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Maggie confirmed with a smile, thinking briefly back to her first day when Sydney had thrown away a Maggie’s perfectly buttery steak.  “Our executive chef is an Orthodox Jew, actually.”

“Oh we know,” the pregnant woman’s wife responded.  “Our friends recommended this place. We’re visiting from Montreal.”

“Montreal, huh?”  

“Yes.”

The dark haired, pregnant one spoke up again.  “Do you think we could meet the chef?”

Maggie thought a moment.  Sydney wouldn’t be _too_ mad at her, right?  “I think I could pull some strings.”

 

\---

 

“Hey, Syd, someone wants to meet you.”

As expected, Sydney rolled off a sigh of annoyance.  “Who?”

“I don’t know.  Some couple. I think they’re Jewish.  They came all the way from _Montreal_.”

Syd wasn’t impressed. She didn’t even look up.  “Maggie, I have too much going on back here. I can’t.”

“But they’re Jewish.”

There was silence for a moment as the chef decorated one of Shahir’s perfectly crafted mousse cakes with a sugar cage.  Sydney straightened, wiping her hands on a towel. “Okay,” she consented, still annoyed. “Just give me a few minutes.”

Satisfied, Maggie again filled her tray.  “I’m taking this out. You better be ready to go by the time I get back.”  

She wasn’t.  Nor was she ready the time after.  Finally, the couple had ordered their desserts, and Sydney still hadn’t lived up to her word.

“Syd, c’mon.  I promised them you’d come out and meet them.”

Sydney let out a deep exhale, nodding dramatically and adding unnecessary flair to the way she painted sauce across a plate.  Finally, she looked up. “Fine, but only for you.”

Maggie’s insides squirmed ever so slightly.  “Thank you,” she said, relieved, trying to fight down the sugary grin that overtook her features.

Sydney looked up from her work, eyes twinkling as they caught Maggie’s smile.  “Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay, _seriously_ , Sydney.  They’re waiting for us.”

Sydney shot a quick glare at Maggie who was waiting for her by the door, arms folded.  With a sigh, she switched to a clean side of her apron, wiping the sweat from her face with her towel.  Motioning to Maggie that she was right behind her, she tossed the old towel in the laundry bin and grabbed a fresh one on her way out.

Maggie led her to a table near the front of the house and the chef was reminded of how much she loathed being out on the floor.  The guests stared at her in her stark white tunic as she passed. Some of them even pointed. Sydney stayed close behind Maggie as they walked, using Maggie’s body to shield herself from view of as many people as possible.

“Okay, ladies, I found her,” Maggie announced as she came to an abrupt halt.  Sydney had to put a hand to Maggie’s back to keep from running into her. She stepped out from behind Maggie then, taking in the sight in front of her all at once.  Her heart stopped.

It couldn’t be.

“ _Nechama_.”  

“Sydney?”

She was seventeen again, her face turning white as the tile on the bathroom walls as she and Nechama made eye contact.  This wasn’t real, wasn’t happening. Nechama was shouting something, wiping her face with a serviette and throwing it down as she stood.  Jessica was saying something back, waving her hands. But this wasn’t Jessica. She didn’t blush, didn’t giggle as she chased Nechama out the door.

It was time to run.   _Tovah will know_.  Where was Tovah now?  In the kitchen. Sydney flew herself there.  Back through the restaurant, back to the only place she could be safe.  

The chilled fridge air welcomed her as she stepped inside, stinging against the tears that spilled over her cheeks.  Reality was settling its way into her mind. It was kicking the door open, staining the floors and furniture with it’s filth, laughing at her.

It had been ten years since she’d seen Nechama. Ten years since her family had pronounced her dead. All because of Sydney.

_What have I done?_

Sydney set herself down on a box of potatoes and wept, the chill in her limbs having little to do with the temperature of the room.

 

* * *

 

It was some time before Maggie could check that Sydney was okay.  By the time she had figured out the chef was no longer behind her, she had tables to attend to.  When she got to the back, she found a kitchen in distress.

Dana was scurrying around head station.  She looked up as Maggie came in. “Are you done playing waitress yet?  Because we could really use you back here.”

“Where’s Chef?” Maggie asked her.  Dana just threw up her hands.

“No idea, but she better get her ass back in here soon.”

Maggie sighed and pulled off her server’s apron, shoving it into Joel’s chest as he walked in.  “You guys are going to have to do without me,” she told him. She grabbed a full-length apron from the linen shelves and slipped it over her head before returning to Dana.  “Okay, where are we at,” she called to the cook as she slid behind the counter. Dana quickly instructed her on the flow of tickets, and Maggie nodded. “Go back to your station,” she said, rolling the sleeves of Alex’s shirt until they were past her elbows. “I’ll take over here.”

She set to work immediately, completely forgetting about Syd until Dawn burst into the kitchen several minutes later.

“Have you seen Sydney?”  Dawn’s eyes were piercing.

“No, I haven’t,” Maggie told her, giving two plates their finishing touches.  A pang of guilt hit her. How had she forgotten? She stood to her full height, wiping her hands on her apron.  “I’ll go find her--Tom, I need that seabass, pronto. I’ll be back, everyone.”

After a wave of _Yes, chef’s_ returned to her, Maggie began her search. She tried the bathroom first with no luck.  Then the office, the storage room––nothing. Maggie glanced through the window of the walk-in as she passed.  There Sydney was, her back to the door, sitting on a bin with her face in her hands. Her glasses were hanging from where she’d threaded them through her fingers.  Maggie took a deep breath and opened the fridge quietly.

Sliding a box of cheeses from a bottom shelf, Maggie sat opposite of Sydney.  Syd was still doubled over, her face hidden, silent. Maggie could see now that she was shaking.  She sat there in silence for several moments, knowing she should give Sydney her space.

Maggie had been in awe of the chef for weeks, but watching Sydney that night had been...something else.  There was a tension rising in Maggie’s chest that she couldn’t shake, and it had everything to do with Sydney.  If she were being honest, it was a tightness that had been building for quite some time. Maggie let her eyes fall across Sydney’s frame, noticing the disheveled and beautiful way her ginger ponytail cascaded over her shoulder, the smallness of Sydney’s waist.  She couldn’t deny her feelings much longer; she wanted to be close to Syd again.

“What would your family do if you weren’t marrying Herschel,” Maggie began, daring to wonder.   _What if you were with me?_

Sydney straightened, pulling her head from her hands and resting her back against the shelves behind her.   Maggie’s implications had been subtle, but the way Sydney surveyed her told her that her intention hadn’t gone completely unnoticed.

“You don’t understand, Maggie,” Sydney said, breathing unsteadily and nodding to herself.  “You’re out of your depth.”

Maggie took a breath, willing her heart to slow down.  She was being selfish, pushing Sydney like this. But she had to try.  “When you kissed me, it...it really threw me.” The words came tumbling out of her mouth as the truth behind them hit her ever harder.   _But._ “But I’m realizing that it may have caused you pain, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being as supportive as I should have been, I’m sorry for harassing you about Herschel, and I’m s--”  

“Maggie, I’m Orthodox.”  Sydney’s brow was furrowed as she dismissed Maggie’s comments like they were nothing. “I live with a whole host of expectations.  This isn’t just about our kiss.”

“I understand _that_ ,” Maggie replied, feeling it with her whole being, wanting Syd to see what she meant. “But--”

“No, Maggie,” Sydney said, raising her voice.  “You don’t understand. You don’t have a clue.” The chef’s eyes burned in anger as she glared at Maggie.

“I have an idea.”

“No, you _don’t_.”  

And she didn’t.  Maggie listened with deepening disgust as Sydney continued to speak, telling her of the expectations of her religion, the uprightness of her community, the horrors her marriage could bring upon her.  Finally, Sydney spoke of the pregnant woman who had yelled at her and left without paying, and Maggie’s heart sank deeper.

“When I caught her kissing a girl, I...I ran and told Nechama’s mother.”  Sydney had begun to shake again, wiping furiously at the large drops leaking from the corners of her eyes.  She continued, “Not just because the religion, but out of….” Sydney trailed off, breaking eye contact with Maggie in visible agony.  “She trusted me, Maggie. We were friends.”

Maggie felt tears welling up in her own eyes as she watched Syd struggle.  She hated seeing the chef like this. Sydney had always been so strong. But Maggie could see now that maybe Sydney was strong out of necessity, and it broke Maggie’s heart.  She ached to reach out and touch Syd, to comfort her in any way she could. Instead, she gripped the box tighter underneath her and swallowed her rising emotions.

“You heard her anger when she saw me,”  Sydney said, bringing her hands tight against her own chest and rubbing her collarbone. “Her family considers her dead now, and I...I as much as killed someone, Maggie.”  She took a steadying breath and met Maggie’s gaze, her eyes hardening. “So don’t you dare think this has anything to do with you, okay? This is _my_ life, this is _my_ burden, and you––”  Sydney stopped, her breath catching. The corners of her mouth pulled down sharply as she swallowed, finally allowing her tears to fall.  “You will _never_ understand.  Do you get that?”

Maggie just looked at her, guilt and sorrow ringing in her stomach.  But even as the pain hit, she thought about how they held hands that morning in the car and knew she had nothing to feel guilty about.  This did have something to do with Maggie. The unfairness of it all was unbelievable. She had to help Sydney. She couldn’t just sit there and allow her suffer, wouldn’t let her lock herself in a cage.  

“Nechama’s happy.”  Maggie watched Sydney wipe the last of the tears from her eyes, saw her swallow.  Sydney refused to look at her. So Maggie leaned forward, making sure Syd met her eyes.  She spoke forcefully. “Do you get that?”

 

\---

 

The final hours of the evening passed slowly, the stream of guests trickling to a stop just after ten.  Maggie stayed out of Sydney’s way, keeping to the line and helping Billy with dishes when he began to complain.  Finally, she and the chef were the only ones left in the restaurant.

Maggie pulled her windbreaker over her shoulders, zipping it as she left the office.  Sydney was sitting alone at the keep-warm counter, still in her uniform. Maggie watched her expectantly until she looked up.

“I think I’m going to stay awhile.”

Maggie swallowed, watching Syd carefully and considering her options.  Finally, she pulled a second stool up to the counter and sat, placing herself in front of Sydney.  Maggie reached out tentatively and put her hand over Sydney’s where it rested under the lamps. She could feel the chef’s engagement ring under her palm.  Sydney looked at their hands and then back to Maggie but said nothing.

“I’m sorry tonight was so hard.”  She gave Syd’s hand a gentle squeeze and pulled away, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

Sydney tightened her lips.  “It’s okay. I’m glad I got to see her again.” she said, smiling slowly.  “I was so...heartbroken for her after I….” There was a pause as Sydney shifted uncomfortably.  “It’s good to see that she’s doing well.”

“I’m sure.”

“She’s married,” Syd said, a smile breaking her face.  “She’s having a baby.”

Maggie nodded with her.  “She is.”

“I’m really happy for her.”

 _You could be that happy too, Syd._  Maggie wanted to shout it.  But after Sydney’s speech earlier, she held her tongue.

It seemed that Sydney heard her anyway.  “We call it ‘sitting shiva,’” she began, shifting her gaze to stare beyond Maggie.  “The death ritual. It lasts for seven days.” Sydney took in a long breath. “But what happened to Nechama…. It doesn’t happen very often.  It means that the family thinks that the person would be better off dead than continuing a life of sin. So, in the eyes of G-d, they kill them.

“When Nechama’s family held her shiva, my mom emailed me.  She called Nechama a curse. She said….” Sydney’s voice wavered.  “She said she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a daughter, like...like that. Like me.”

Maggie watched on silence as a single tear rolled halfway down Sydney’s cheek before it was wiped away.

“If I...if I ever…I don’t know what would happen. With my family, or anyone in the community.”

“You’ve never told anyone before?”

Sydney shook her head. “Maggie, I’ve never even said it out loud.” She bit her lip and shuffled her hands in her lap. “I’ve never had to admit it before.”

“You don’t…” Maggie hesitated.  She knew it was what Syd needed to hear, but she didn’t like saying it.  “You don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to admit it.”

“Yes I do,” Sydney was shaking her head.  “I don’t think I can hold it in anymore. The way I feel about––” she blushed a little, averting her eyes from Maggie, “I have to say it sometime.”

“You can say it to me,” Maggie offered, giving Sydney an encouraging smile.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sydney’s face changed as she considered this.  They sat there a long moment, looking at each other in silence.  Eventually, Sydney rose, taking Maggie’s hand and pulling her to her feet as well.  

 _She’s so close,_ Maggie thought.  Close enough that she could reach out and pull Sydney to her, if she wanted.  Her heart began pounding in her chest and she tightened her grip on Sydney’s hand.  This was Sydney’s moment, though, and Maggie waited patiently, hoping her eyes were conveying her feelings on their own.

“I...I like girls,” Sydney finally conceded and Maggie smiled at once, proud, insides beginning to soar at the implications hidden in Sydney’s eyes.  Syd smiled faintly, glancing to the side and shaking her head. “There, I said it.”

Sydney took a step forward and Maggie’s heart beat faster still.   _Am I doing this?_ She watched Syd’s darkened eyes fall to her mouth, her whole body tingling.  She took a breath.

 _Yeah_ , she thought, body warm as she reached out for Sydney after all, cupping Sydney’s face with both her hands.   _I’m doing this._  And, before she let herself think any further, Maggie closed the gap.

Syd was immediately passionate, and Maggie refused to let go.  She held onto Sydney when their lips finally broke apart several minutes later with her hands up the back of Sydney’s thin cotton shirt.  She held on as they donned their jackets and locked up the dark restaurant. Their hands tangled during their subway journey to Maggie’s, and as she pulled Syd up three flights of stairs, Maggie longed to stop at each level at take Sydney once again into her arms.  

And when she finally led Sydney through her apartment door, pulling her close, Maggie did not let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of these days i will break away from canon. ~~just u wait, henry higgins, just u wait~~


End file.
